


Achilles Heel

by holy_roller_novocaine



Category: Bleach
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, F/M, Family, Gen, Winter War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1295341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holy_roller_novocaine/pseuds/holy_roller_novocaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU-Thirteen years ago she left soul society sure of three things: that she was knocked-up; she had to get the heck out of soul society, and that she did not trust Ichimaru Gin, even if her life depended on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brave new world

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on FF.net under the author a spark of insanity, I'm her.

Disclaimer for the whole story: nada, nothing, zilch.

**_The canvas has been wiped clean;_ **

**_the colors are the same, the roles are different,_ **

**_painting an identity, and the world anew._ **

**Prologue- Brave new world:**

It's cold; winter leaving its mark in a landscape of white.

Sweat beads her brow, pain lacing through every part of her body, she stops panting to appreciate the beauty outside of the window pane.

In the twilight of December 10th a blizzard roars through Karakura town.

A befitting introduction to the world.

On her back, biting her lip, muffling screams in sheer- Get your head out of the gutter—in sheer agony, besides contrary to popular belief Matsumoto Rangiku has only ever had one lover and he is nowhere in sight, and besides this whole damn thing is his fault, not that he would know.

Crap now she feels guilty ow…and ow! Hello contractions! Guilt psh, she feels pain that trumps guilt any day as far she's concerned.

"Rangiku-san, on the count of three please push!"

"That's Matsumoto fukutaicho to you, and what the hell do you think I'm doing!?" Her lip is bleeding, why did she want a natural birth? Her insides feel as if they're being torn to shreds, when this is over she fears she may never look down there again.

"He's crowning, one more push and he'll be here soon!"

Fifteen hours of labor, and finally a wail pierces the air, it's the most beautiful sound she's ever heard.

Upon her swollen stomach he is laid for the briefest of moments: bloodied, pinched face, and crying to the heavens. Then he is taken away and cleaned, and brought back to his rightful place—her arms.

She's exhausted, there are bags beneath her eyes, and her limbs are weary.

All of this is overcome by the intense joy she feels at seeing and holding her son at long last. He's quiet now; the lights are dim and his eyes are open wide dashing about curiously, before he stares at her.

He has his father's coloring she realizes faintly, then he's nudging his face at her breast, searching. _And he appears to also be a breast man_ , she thinks dryly.

She gives into his quest when he begins to whimper, and after a few tries he is successful. He tries and fails to stay awake as he feeds, watching her.

Toushiro, she decides as he blinks sluggishly once more, "Toushiro, my shiro-chan. My little winter prince."

The future is bright, she thinks perhaps she'll go to college, open a bar, and live in a concrete jungle. Hell travel the world, the sky's the limit. But when she thinks of the trails she had to go through to get to this very moment, she knows it was worth it.


	2. Epoch

**Epoch:**

Toushiro's interlude: Oh great prodigal son turn that frown upside down, young one with the might of a thousand men, and a wit tenfold of that. Little man with a master plan. Who the hell are you calling short? You of course, with your very, very strange coloring, you'll be a looker indeed, a lady killer any mother would be proud of. S-shut-up! Oh look, look he blushes.

* * *

 

_**I dream of ice,** _

_**a voice that haunts and leaves warnings in his wake.** _

_**His name I know, but dare not speak aloud.** _

**__**

On September 16th many curious things happen:

He's up hours before the clock strikes six.

His nights are troubled; sleep is a faraway bliss.

It's hot; the heat waves are still in full force even this late in the year. The air conditioner's broken; the windows are ajar, letting in more hot air that the fans twirl and swirl around.

His limbs are slick with perspiration, sticking to the cotton sheets twisted around him. Somewhere at some time in the night he must have stripped down to his pants, usually the summer temperatures didn't bother him, but something is  _wrong,_  he can feel it in his bones.

It's going to be a long day.

Half dead to the world and yawning, he struggles to his feet, stumbling over the night's discarded clothing, sheets and comforter. Out of his room's door, into the hall to the bathroom and beyond…where he stumbles and falls flat on his face.

He wasn't supposititious, but this had to a sign of something… maybe impending doom.

Groaning, he reaches blindly for the object or rather objects responsible for a one way ticket tumbling to the floor. Sake he should have known, a bottle in hand he flinches away from the stench of stale alcohol and actually takes in his surroundings.

Toushiro values routine, order and the like for the sake of his sanity, and it's a test of his will and patience to deal with chaos. But this is ridiculous.

An over turned couch and table, paintings and window blinds askew, on any available flat surface are sake bottles: empty, half full, or untouched and much, much more. A typhoon must have raced through the threshold of the tiny apartment's living room and kitchen, and repeated the damage thrice over.

Pressure, he can already feel the telltale signs of a headache coming, and this wasn't a warning for a "long day" rather an everyday occurrence. Really how much could this women drink?

"HAHA-UE!"

And the day begins as it always does.

"What!? No Ka-chan?" A muffled voice responds, before choking then inhaling loudly, "I almost suffocated; I never thought I'd see the day where I'd be betrayed by them!"

Toushiro's eye twitches as she refers to her breasts, "Haha-ue why do you keep drinking the merchandise?" He gestures to the empty bottle in his hand, " _Haineko's_ will go under at the rate you're going and then where will we be?"

_Haineko's_  the bar below their apartment, owned and operated by 'Hitsugaya' Rangiku, befitting considering her habits. Despite Toushiro's cynicism, the business is wildly successful, patrons being drawn in by her lively personality.

"Haha-ue? What's with the formality?" Rangiku asks, completely ignoring the rest of his questions, "Shiro-chan you're so mean to your Ka-chan, you were so sweet when you were little," she wails, "what happened to my little boy?"

His mother turns and gestures to the wall with photos of him from infancy to his current twelve years of age, embarrassingly dubbed the "Shiro-chan shrine."

"Mother-"

"…Ka-chan," His mother corrects.

"-Haha-ue," he bites out defiantly, "It's too hot for this. The apartment looks like a warzone, please go sleep in your room so I can clean."

Even aggravated or angry Toushiro is always polite, and Rangiku finds it downright adorable, which means woe to him for antagonizing will ensue.

"But I have a hangover; will Toushiro not get his Mommy tea?" She questions in the voice she once used frequently when he was a young child.

Fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and the sigh he lets out is longsuffering; he takes one look at his mother's pleading doe eyes and knows defeat.

"Fine, I need trash bags anyway and I'll get the aspirin while I'm at it."

"Not the can kind, hot ginger tea please!" Rangiku calls after him as he disappears into the adjoining kitchen, muttering mutinously under his breathe.

Wiping his brow free of sweat he opens the freezer door enjoying the sudden chill, and parks himself between the refrigerator and the oven waiting for the telltale screech from the kettle on the stove top, trying to remember if today's the day recycling's picked up.

Absently he reaches for the now whistling tea kettle, pours the scorching water into the awaiting mug and burns himself.

Another sign of the long day to come:

Perhaps it's the lack of sleep, the annoyance of dealing with his playful mum, or the simple lack of control… maybe it's a combination of all three. Either way the day's barely started and it's steadily getting worse, for the room's temperature has suddenly dropped to below zero.

A breeze sweeps through the kitchen; leaving sleets of ice in its wake, ice sickles form hanging menacingly from the ceiling. The backlash is a sudden shift of the spiritual variety with enough force to send chills down the spine.

Cursing all the while Toushiro barely notices, dropping the kettle and hurrying to douse the burned flesh in cold water.

"What this?"

Startled, he looks to the entrance way of the kitchen, and finds his mother staring at him questioningly, brow raised at the sudden winter wonderland in her usually plain kitchen. He follows her now wondering gaze, and then flushes at his… "outburst." It's been a while since he's had one, typically he's more controlled.

"I burned myself," he mumbles, sounding strangely shy.

Rangiku carefully makes her way to him by the sink, taking measures to step in areas not covered by ice on the floor. She takes his wounded hand in hers, hands that are now glowing green, mending what was broken.

The small display of spiritual power shows Toushiro that he has nothing to be ashamed of, and that his "outbursts" are quite normal considering what he is.

"Toushiro."

It's her somber tone that makes him give her his undivided attention, but there's a smile on her face, the one he remembers her giving when he was younger and accomplishing feats beyond his years. Proud and very indulgent.

"Every day you get stronger, just like…" She trails off, shaking her head, never finishing her sentence like she has done so many times in the past.

He wants to ask like "whom," but never has the courage, it was one of those things that were better left unsaid.

Abruptly Rangiku grins, the serious moment is over before it even began, and his face is buried between two mounds, "My Shiro-chan is growing up so fast!"

"Unhand me women!" He flushes in anger or embarrassment he doesn't know, and tries desperately to escape her "hug of doom".

She let's go of him, ruffles his wild white hair, and then waves him away, "go get ready for school, I'll clean up."

He stares at her for a moment then walks away, luckily not seeing the look on her face as if a bad omen is hanging over her head. The last thing he wants is to be a burden to her.

* * *

Rangiku's interlude: Wham, bam. No thank you mam, kidding the whole bottle if you please, maybe two, a simple night cap won't do. Bosom? Yes. Blond? Of course, certainly not a ginger. Beauty and brains? Couldn't you tell I'm the total package and your worst nightmare!

* * *

_**Mischief is afoot; it floods the night air merrily searching for potential victims,** _

_**and once they're within grasp,** _

_**mischief strikes down the unfortunate wretches.** _

 

On September 16th the curiosities continue:

A cat, a beaver, and a man in hat-and-clogs walk into a bar… this has all the makings of a very lame joke Rangiku thinks hysterically.

Happy hour has just finished and she's polishing glasses when she feels them. Three suppressed reiatsu, very familiar though she thinks perhaps her senses have been shot to hell after thirteen years of being out of commission. But there they are—a cat, a beaver, and a man in hat-and-clogs.

In that moment she feels many things: anxiety, surprise, a sickening fear that claws at her throat demanding to be released in a scream.

What are they doing here? Isn't there a war to be fought?

She fortifies herself, preparing for the worse as the trio draw near the bar counter, somehow blending in perfectly with her usual clientele.

Inside she's reeling, fighting the urge to take off, find her baby and never look back.

Outside however she remains calm and collected as she puts down the glass and cloth, and approaches them donning her armor in the form of a wide grin. "Welcome to  _Haineko's_ ," she purrs her armor now out in full force, "what can I get you?"

The cat grins just as widely, always ready to play along, "Your strongest sake, we're gonna need it."

Rangiku swallows, apprehension knitting her brow and chipping away at her front, "Really now."

Warning bells are ringing loudly in her ears.

The beaver frowns, taking in the décor, "Got to say, you've got a nice place here," is the compliment, followed quickly by an insult as he raises a mocking brow, "' _Haineko's'_? Hiding in plain sight eh, Matsumoto?"

And suddenly her patience is gone, and she's very tired. Her head is already in the lion's mouth, the jaws tightening around her neck and she's losing the will to fight.

"Yoruichi, Shinji-san, Urahara," she addresses the threesome, but stares at hat-and-clogs, "what do you want?"

That is a loaded question and has many different meanings; Urahara Kisuke has an equally ambiguous answer and says, "We have a problem."

Rangiku isn't surprised; rather her thoughts are on her son and all the precautions that would warn her if he's in danger. He's warded beyond reason, but that doesn't stop her from worrying, she is a mother.

* * *

It takes twenty minutes to close the bar for the night.

It's Tuesday, sister to Monday, certainly not a drinking day like the distant cousins Friday and Saturday.

She settles tabs, puts away the day's earnings in the safe, does a quick cleaning—promising to come back and finish the job thoroughly. Calls her two employees and lets them have the night off with pay—she's a fair boss.

She sets up her three much unexpected guests at one of the many tables still sticky with alcohol, with the promise of her best sake and then some.

She does these things to keep calm, for a semblance of routine. For her mind is racing a million miles an hour with thoughts of her son.

A visit from these three is most unwelcomed.

She's spent nearly thirteen years on the outskirts, nearly estranged from the going on's of soul society, except for knowing of the major events that have triggered drastic changes.

She's stayed away for a good reason.

Rangiku would know if Toushiro's in danger, they'd taken many precautions: seals and illegal kido.

That does not stop her from worrying. She steps into the storage area to make a call.

The moments leading up to him picking up his mobile are agonizing, yet when a ring is interrupted with his curt "Hai" Rangiku is beyond relieved.

"Shiro-chan!" She coos having zero intent of voicing her distress, "Where are you?"

"Train, about thirty minutes away from home, but first I'm going to the market to pick up a few things, I need to cook, we can't live on frozen dinners."

Rangiku laughs, her cooking skills leave little to be desired, and Toushiro being the fierce independent that he is took it upon himself to learn. "All right, how was tutoring?"

"….Tedious. Was the air conditioner fixed to day?"

"Hai, Hai, the man who came couldn't stop staring at 'them,' he kept tripping and couldn't look me in the eye…"

Some of her upset must have shown through despite her usual antics for he asks hesitantly, "Ka-chan is everything all right?"

"Fine, everything's fine!" She replies jovially.

"…Okay. I'll be home soon."

"Bye, bye!"

On the wall beside the phone she rests her head for a moment, then breaths deeply. Whatever may come she'll deal with it accordingly.

She's ready to take on the world…maybe.

From around the corner she appears, announcing to the room, "I come bearing the goods, there's nothing like liquid courage!"

_**Shards of glass lay at my feet as** _

_**I walk down this avenue of broken dreams.** _

_**Gathering up the pieces to create something anew.** _

The first round is served; they avoid the striped pink elephant in the room and start on neutral territory—her son.

This is something she can wax poetic on, and she does with great almost false enthusiasm, a smile so wide it hurts her face:

"Oh he's so smart! Only twelve and entering high school next year! He tutors after school for community service, it's a requirement more than voluntary service on his part but that's beside the point…." She babbles on.

"Masumoto?" She stiffens at the address. "Is he," Urahara seems choose his words carefully, "still having 'outbursts'?"

"Outbursts" also known as Toushiro's sudden release of spiritual pressure, such episodes that usually occur while he sleeps—the room dropping in temperature, ice forming on every surface, or the weather changing suddenly. Sometimes it happens while he's awake and his emotions are running high…like today.

"Hai," Rangiku nods, "Not as much as he did as a child. He's learning to control himself…. He's growing up so very fast, if we were in soul society I'd at least have a few decades to watch him grow…." She trails off wistfully.

"So he's powerful and a prodigy," Shinji concludes and says almost slyly, "like his father?"

Okay not so neutral due to the pointed glares from hat and clogs and the cat at the beaver.

Rangiku only pauses for a significant moment, then nods.

Tension settles over them again until the subject is changed.

They speak of the war. Of Aizen delving further into his experimentation with hollowfication and creating arrancars and the dreaded espada. They tell her of the wild card, the substitute shinigami, Shiba Isshin's kid, who turned this war on its axis and into their favor. This hybrid with the most messed up genetic pool she's ever heard of—human, shinigami, quincy… and hollow.

She listens as they speak of their losses, and her heart pangs with the death of her former leader Unohana Kou, captain of the tenth division.

They speak and tell, she listens, but she has yet to hear the reason why they're here.

Ah there we are:

"Aizen's becoming desperate, his forces are being decimated, and the Hōgyoku… nothing's infinite, and… and Ichimaru's been playing double agent and has been compromised," Urahara says in a detached tone.

The ability to breathe suddenly escapes her, and her hands tighten around her cup. She suddenly wants to cry, but finds herself channeling her serious little boy, "Explain."

"See Kisuke here knows everything about anything as always, but keeps the rest of us in the dark," Yoruichi says almost fondly, a sheepish expression graces the face of the man in question. "Apparently our fox like friend has been answering to higher calling, while spying on the one who aspires to be that very being in power—that's irony at its finest! This long term mission started after Ichimaru witnessed the hollowfication of our vizard buddies here," Yoruichi slaps Shinji soundly on the back, "and continued until a week ago. There was a plan for Gin to assassinate Aizen at his most vulnerable, but that went up in flames, and now he's in the division four barracks of Seireitei in critical condition."

Fingers trembling, Rangiku reaches blindly for the cigarette behind her ear, and indulges in a habit she supposed to have sworn off.

Match in hand, the flame comes to life and she inhales deeply and lets the numbing sensation of nicotine wash over her.

"Deathberry—Ichigo that is, is training to take down-" The cat continues, but is interrupted by a shaky voice.

"What," Rangiku licks her lips, feeling parched, "What does this have to do with my son and I?"

"See here's the curious thing," Urahara laughs nervously, "Somehow your sealed medical records came to light, even though you're supposedly dead."

The bosom blond takes a long drag on her fag, her mind racing.

Thirteen years ago she left soul society sure of three things: that she was knocked-up; she had to get the hell out of soul society, and that she did not trust Ichimaru Gin even if her life depended on it.

Motherhood is a game changer and she had moved heaven and earth for her child.

She had gotten the hell out of dodge and had been fine….

Until this.

"Only two people in soul society knew I was pregnant when I left, and one of them is now dead," Her eyes become hard as steel and she questions mockingly, "So do you in all your infinite knowledge know how this came to be?"

"Actually I do, via sleeper agent," Urahara supplies. "She's been gathering information for years."

"Who?"

"Hinamori Momo."

Well damn, that kind of made sense. Aizen had had them all fooled when his betrayal came to light. Momo had been particularly devastated. If they'd all been under an illusion, who's to say his former and most devoted vice-captain hadn't been under a layered illusion or brainwashed into doing his bidding until the time was right, or maybe she'd been playing them all and loyal all along to the megalomaniac. But surely Aizen's power was finite? There had to be a loophole.

But that was neither here nor there. Right now things just got more complicated.

"Gin never knew I was pregnant," Rangiku confesses quietly.

"Matsumoto that doesn't matter, Aizen's a sociopath, therefore unpredictable," Shinji explains with uncharacteristic gentleness, "There's a chance he'll come after you and Toushiro in revenge for a trusted ally betraying him."

"So what do I do?" She starts quietly, her voice slowly rising as she goes on. "Twiddle my thumbs, and put my trust in the hands of a kid—Kurosaki—like the rest of you, to save our asses from a mad man on a power trip, trying to kill the spirit king, meaning all of us ending up dead!"

Her chest is heaving, her cheeks are flushed, and pupils dilated… head out of the gutter please. She's pissed, beyond pissed.

Rangiku pours another cup of sake and quickly throws it back, then says more calmly, "What do  _we_  do?"

Amber eyes glint mischievously, "We-"

The spiritual pressure hits her with the force an eighteen wheeler, but her counterparts seem unfazed if not tense and wary. The feeling is familiar, reminding her of past days as a shinigami. Yet the negativity is tenfold, beyond anything she's ever faced.

' _Hollow… no Arrancar.'_

She realizes with growing horror that the signature is coming from the direction Toushiro usually takes to get home. The chain bracelet she usually keeps on her right arm snaps, and the symbols marked beneath it burns a violent red. He's in danger.

' _Oh god… Shiro-chan.'_

A trembling hand rises to her face, comes back and she sees it wet with moisture. She realizes she's crying. It's like a great nightmare come true.

A hand comes to rest on her shoulder and she jumps, startled.

"Take this, it's a called a gikon, it'll release you from your gigai," Urahara explains when she stares blankly at the cat shape candy dispenser. "Rangiku-san he's alive, I feel him still. Let's go save your kid."

She looks up to see that the beaver and cat are already on their way out, she nods and moves into action, fighting down the ever rising panic.

_**Ice is my shield,** _

_**it's power I fear,** _

_**but shall wield in the face of adversaries.** _

On September 16th the curiosities begin to reach a climax:

It's a strange feeling looking into the face of one's own would be death dealer.

Toushiro thinks he experiencing the cliché of seeing his short life flash before his eyes.

The grocery bags have fallen out of his hands, as he absently rips off the silver chained bracelet on his left arm.

As usual he doesn't even recognize the sudden drop in temperature around him, nor the ice that's seems to have a mind of its own, forming a protective barrier that surrounds him—a defense mechanism.

"So," says the man.

'….  _N_ _o,'_ Toushiro thinks,  _'he feels…hollow.'_

This hollow crouched on the fence in front of him with eyes that glint madness, blue haired, and the remnants of a mask on his jaw, "Your Ichimaru's kid, who'd a thunk it!? This," his eyes take in the ice beginning to coat every surface in sight, "should be interesting."

_Shit._

This day has officially gone down the deep end.

****__  
  
  



	3. Rip'em asunder

**Rip'em asunder:**

* * *

_**Something grim this way comes.** _

He's here on a second chance, certainly not on a whim.

To prove himself worthy… no better.

Ulquiorra Ciffer had fallen to the blade of the shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo, but he had survived. Surely he's the better warrior, superior despite the numbers that graces their Hierro flesh.

Ichimaru Gin had shown himself to be as deceitful as the very creature he imitates—a fox.

In return for his treachery, Aizen does not demand his head, rather his weakness… his Achilles heel to be  _dealt with._

The sixth Espada takes the mission with glee, having no love for the shinigami who sat higher than him in the succession of power.

Besides how much trouble could a women and her child be.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, you are a fool indeed.

_**Naive, I am in the face of death.** _

_**With the power I wield I will know no defeat.** _

_**Yet I refuse thee,** _

_**whom may be my very saving grace.** _

On September 16th the curiosities reach a grim conclusion:

His mind is quick.

It's even quicker when he's under stress.

Fear had stricken him with all the might of a war hammer, as his reiatsu forms an ice safe haven for him against the impending threat.

Through it all he studies this hollow:

He's haggard in appearance, seeming to have barely recovered from a previous battle, hanging from a tether, with death's cold breath on his neck. But his reiatsu is powerful enough for Toushiro to feel as if he's being hammered down.

The odds are against him he realizes… no he knows, but despite the crippling fear he's prompted to ask, "Why are you here, aside from the obvious?"

The  _to kill me_  goes unsaid, hanging between them as tension tangible on the tongue.

"Your Ichimaru's kid," The glam rocker reject says as if that should be answer enough.

"That doesn't explain why now? After years of being left alone, why… better yet who is after us now?" Toushiro wants to know.

Mock sympathy coats the hollow's voice as he shakes his head, "Kid, kid, kid, there's a war going on in the spirit world, and in war people die for the greater good. Bigger forces are at work here and I'm just following orders. You have a target on your back; blame your Mommy and Daddy."

Toushiro's mind races.

A war?

His father's name is Ichimaru Gin?

There's gotta be more to this.

"Who?" He presses.

"The names and reasons don't matter, what matters is bringing down those that stand in the way, Ichimaru and all those associated with him have gotta go—You, Matsumoto Rangiku."

Sins of the mother and father, indeed, the stab of resentment makes his jaw clench.

He's wet behind the ears in most manners pertaining to the spirit world, and Toushiro doesn't like entering a situation where previous knowledge would lead to better outcomes.

Yes, yes he understands she wanted him to have a normal life, free from the restraints of being a military dog.

His "outbursts" shot that dream of normalcy to hell.

Rangiku sheltered him and in consequence he never learned to accept what he is.

Neither human nor truly Shinigami.

Whenever he had questions pertaining to his background, the answers were vague, certainly not enough to stop the burning curiosity. Toushiro isn't an idiot. With each almost answer he's been given; he's pieced together a picture, that while not whole gives him the ability to not walk into this quandary completely blind and stumbling in the dark without a flashlight.

And genius intellect isn't needed to tell him he's utterly screwed.

From a distance he's felt the negativity of a hollow's spiritual pressure, and he's quite certain normal hollows don't feel like this nor look quite this… humanoid.

But he'll defend himself…if he can.

And suddenly he mourns the fact that he did not plead harder for training.

He can't wield his power like an extension of his limbs.

He'd only learned on his own to suppress it due to his more frequent "outbursts" through meditation and rigid self-control. A relapse only occurring usually while he sleeps or his emotions are running high.

The spiritual presence within frightens him. A monster in his chest that's roaring to be let out—swearing to protect him, guide him, and fulfill his deep desire for companionship.

But that is not enough incentive to let go.

His mother is coming, he reminds himself, and he's in way over his head, but until then the need to live wins outweighing the fear of not being in control. Toushiro will not go down without a fight.

Defiantly he stares into the eyes of the one who wishes him harm. "This Ichimaru Gin you speak of means nothing to me, and I will not suffer for his sins."

"Someone's got to, and that happens to be you and your Mommy,"

The threat is clear and the exchange finally reaches its end.

So for the first time he consciously unleashes his spiritual pressure and watches as it manifest with awed eyes.

And finds he is not consumed, but the name his spirit craves shall not fall from his lips.

* * *

The fight is over before it really begins.

Toushiro takes the defensive; he knows no attacks, and has zero combat experience. And while his mind analyzes and comes up with strategies, each is stonewalled by the lack of information.

His eyes widen when the hollow attacks him with a zampakuto in hand, the swings wild in fashion.

His ice barrier moves with surprising speed to shield him, he finds when he gestures with hands and arms the speed doubles while barely dodging blow after blow.

There's the distinct feeling that he is the prey and that this predator is merely toying with him.

Such a conclusion wouldn't be farfetched.

The hollow stops abruptly, the psychotic grin on his face at odds with his false solemn tone, "Kid I'm gonna let you in on a little secrect."

He disappears in a blur, sonido at work. "That you're die gonna,  _now!"_

Eyes dilated in sheer terror, Toushiro looks back just in time to see the blade come down.

And idly he can't help but think rather hysterically he should have stayed in bed this morning.

He knew today would be a long day.

_**The night is dark and full of terrors,** _

_**a waking dream that has become a living nightmare.** _

_**And I scream to awaken, but find I am trapped.** _

It is said that a parent cannot protect their child from the evils of the world.

Rangiku's managed to keep Toushiro from the hell that is encountering a hollow and not living to tell the tale. Over the years there have been a few almost run in's, but they've remained unscathed.

Until now:

Knowing the danger one's own child is in, is heart numbing.

Watching one's own child get cut down is soul crushing.

It's a train wreck and she can't look away:

Swift as the blade comes down, quicker it returns for impalement, knocked off course by the roundhouse kick from the former commander of the Onmitsukidō. The sword still meets a target landing firmly in Toushiro's shoulder, cutting through flesh with ease from back to front, then retreating as quickly as it came.

For a moment she freezes in indecision, a part of her screams to get revenge, a blood thirst she attributes to her usually lazy zanpakuto spirit. The other is more dominant, reasons in rational tones to take care of the situation at hand, to be a mother.

The world fades into one focal point as she moves into action.

Toushiro is in her arms before he can touch the earth below. He's gasping; his eyes wide and luminous with unshed tears, the pain she imagines, must be unbearable. Her hands are wet with blood that wells and spreads from the long gash on his back; she needs to turn him over to inspect his wounds.

"Give me your coat!" She snaps at Geta-boshi, who's looking mighty useless, perhaps biding his time. "Lay it there," she instructs.

Rangiku focuses on the task at hand, ignoring the lump in throat, and wiping furiously at her eyes. "Toushiro, listen to my voice," somehow she manages to keep a calm steady tone, "I'm going to turn you over."

Her hands are cautious, he grunts as he's moved, white hair at the back of his head becoming pink as the blood smears and cakes in his uniform shirt. Rangiku rips the material away, bites her lip and wishes she had the sense to bring that jug of sake; her simple healing kido skills will not be enough for this.

Gingerly she inspects the gash, long and deep, racing from the arch of his back diagonally to his left shoulder, where it becomes a grisly mess of bone, tissue, and muscle.

The injuries are meant for suffering, bleeding out slowly until the victim is left lifeless. They are mortal wounds.

A distinct feeling of failure curls knots into her stomach, as she takes in the damage she's worked so hard to prevent.

Seals, forbidden kido… nothing had been enough.

_I'm a failure as a mother;_  such a self-deprecating thought is shaken away.

Precious minutes are slipping away; she works to staunch the bleeding.

"The blow is fatal," Urahara states the obvious; Rangiku throws him an irritated glare. He holds his hands out in surrender and continues, "The blow is fatal for a  _human_ , a shinigami on the other hand has a greater chance of survival if we remove him from his gigai."

Before she can say  _what the hell are we waiting for?_ From behind his fan Urahara delivers the punch line in a warning tone, "But if he's removed from his gigai—which is such a waste, one of my greatest versions—he'll stop aging like a human. He'll be as he was born, the offspring of two captain class shinigami, and remember this gigai was a prototype and to make another like this one would take years."

Rangiku leans over takes in her son's appearance in, the shock is setting in, his pallor has gone white and sweat beads his brow. "I don't care, _do it!"_

"As you wish," with a flourish Geta-boshi snaps the fan close, and pulls a talisman of sorts from his haori. He grins and slams it flat against Toushiro's clammy forehead, to which he groans then becomes incorporeal and nude.

The wounds on his back are not as severe, but nonetheless grim looking, he'll live though. She utilizes the cat shaped candy dispenser and her dulled senses come to life, her awareness spreading as she leaves the confines of her reiatsu concealing gigai behind.

It's all business from there:

Danger is afoot, there's no time to return home for supplies. Glowing hands run over his back, warding away infection, it's the best she can do until he gets to a real healer. She removes her outer hoari and covers her son for modesty's sake, rips the bottom of her hakama for bandages maneuvering her son's mangled body as he whimpers and groans, delirious with pain.

He leans heavily upon her, eyes dazed he finally speaks in a low tired voice, "Ka-chan am I going to die?"

The lump in her throat gets larger; she chokes out, "N-no, I won't let you."

"No one can stop death," Toushiro says in his usual no nonsense manner, "Not even you, but I don't want to die yet…" he trails off, head lolling on her shoulder before falling into her neck as his breathing deepens—he sleeps.

Frantically she checks his pulse and finds it still pounding beneath her fingertips, and she wilts in relief. She busies herself as her mind races and adjusts the haori around her son, which dwarfs his frame looking like a kimono—he's so slight. Eventually a decision is made.

"Urahara," she addresses him, there's a commanding quality in her tone that calls him to attention. When she feels his eyes on her, she turns and meets his gaze, "You've done a lot for me, for us. Now I need another favor. Take him to Unohana Restu."

There's amusement lacing his every word as he replies, "You do realize he will end up in soul society, and once they find out he's Ichimaru's kid…"

The rest of that sentence goes unvoiced for she knows exactly what  _will_ happen.

Soul society's politics: recruitment, a bartering tool, the list goes on.

Hell Toushiro will meet his father, and she probably won't be around for that train wreck to happen.

She swallows hard, "She's a healer, and right now that's what he needs. Besides remember Unohana taicho is Toushiro's godmother, I know she'll have his best interest at heart."

"Does he know of her?" Urahara questions as he gathers the discarded gigai.

"No," Rangiku shakes her head, "she's respected my wishes and stayed away."

"All right, I'll get Yoruichi to carry the brat, and have Shinji stay here since you're obviously bent on revenge."

"Eventually my past would come to bite me in the ass, this war is just an omen come true," she answers vaguely but doesn't deny wanting revenge, instead turns her eyes on the monster that gutted her child like an animal. He's engaged in battle with the hollowfied Shinji and the very nimble cat.

No,  _no_ they're holding him off from attacking her, blue eyes catch her steel ones, and then trail to her son and he has the audacity to smirk. _That son of a bitch!_

That's her breaking point; in the form of a pointed finger, she offers him a rude gesture.

It appears she'll be joining and fighting the good fight after all.

From then on her thoughts and actions are not her own, or perhaps they are. She feels strangely numb, a bystander watching the events unfold with a sort of morbid curiosity.  _Astral projection._

She hardly recognizes herself, this person readying to sacrifice herself in the face of an enemy willing to destroy what she holds dear.

_But no_  she realizes, this person is familiar,  _herself_  at her best with unclouded judgment.

Urahara must have called Yoruichi, for she suddenly appears lifting the burden of Toushiro's weight from her arms, distantly Rangiku hears her promise to keep him safe. She kisses his brow, and thanks them.

"All in a day's work," The mad scientist replies, then murmurs a kido spell; time and space rip open creating a portal, and they disappear. That man she thinks from afar will never cease to amaze her.

Focus returns to her purpose where two exploits of a madman clash.

And for a moment she watches.

Shinji can only keep his mask for certain timed intervals. And this espada is relentless.

An opening appears, and she moves into action, shunpo at her feet.

"So you're the messenger?" She questions rhetorically, watching his eyes widen as her blade comes down, "I think I'll kill the messenger."

He grins predatorily, canines sharp and blocks her sword, "At least know the messenger's name."

"To carve in your corpse," Rangiku deadpans, showing surprising strength as their soul slayers meet in a stalemate, and they push against each other to get the upper hand.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, right next to the number six on my back," He replies raising his right hand, a red glow forming.

"Should I be impressed?" When the cero flares to life and aims for her, she disappears from sight, calling to her comrade, "Shinji I've got it from here!"

She ignores the beaver when he mutters mutinously about stealing people's thunder, and gives her opponent a sickening sweet smile.

The glint of madness in his eyes puts her on guard, but hell hath no fury like a women bent on payback.

And so they dance:

Thrust, dodge, parry, kido spell, cero… repeat, reverse, mix and match.

" _Growl Haineko!"_

She's ruthless, one thought, one motivation driving her. The adrenaline is covering how rusty she's become after being out of combat for so long. Her muscles though are remembering, reflexes becoming in sync with her thoughts.

But he's better…even if he looks like he's been put through the motions. She's starting to look the same for every blow she lands he seems to come back thrice as hard, she wonders perhaps if she's out of her league. He hasn't even released the Arrancar's famed resurreccion, his spiritual pressure though remains strong.

She has one last resort.

She's never had much drive, always content with being strong enough, never trying to reach her potential. Thirteen years ago circumstances changed, she and her spirit came to an understanding to protect what is theirs.

Haineko craves the blood of the one who caused harm to their young, and his blood she shall receive.

_To Toushiro_.

She's screaming the word before she can think twice, "BANKAI!"

She's learned bankai, but has not mastered it.

Smoke and ash explode behind her, twirling and swirling in sparks of silver. A fog condensing to resemble a giant roaring cat behind her, a haze of smoke rolling from its mouth, "Storm of Ash  _(Arashi no Hai)_!"

Grimmjow cuts himself on his blade, there's a crackling of blue energy; she's not the only one gearing up.

"Rip him asunder  _Haineko_!" The fog spreads and becomes several spiraling tunnels… tornados.

This has the potential of becoming overkill.

And it does.

_He who seeks vengeance must dig two graves one for his enemy & one for himself._

_**The world was once in blacks and whites,** _

_**with grays that would occasionally bleed in,** _

_**so very, very mundane.** _

_**Then an implosion of color came, so vibrant I shield my eyes,** _

_**but never look away.** _

On September 16th the curiosities begin anew:

Many words describe Urahara Kisuke:

Eccentric, genius, grand manipulator perhaps even more so than Aizen.

Many phrases describe him, the most befitting is:

The man with the master plan that no one is privy to, or rather the man who knows the outcome to the war, while everyone is kept in the dark.

Yet as Geta-boshi meets the shrewd eyes of one Unohana Retsu, he's reduced that of a young boy caught red handed in the midst of trouble making with Yoruichi Shihōin and Tessai Tsukabishi.

Her smile is very pleasant, however she speaks with a certain demanding quality, "Urahara-san what I can do for you? If you would please hurry I am quite busy, and have many patients to attend to here."

Here happens to be where the division four captain works her magic with an ease that is distinctly hers. A warehouse in an undisclosed location for the fallen soul reapers, guarded in a barrier by the recently healed Hachigen Ushōda, until all the injured can be taken back to soul society. Far from Aizen's influence as he perishes matter with his very presence, something Kisuke knows is being resolved as they speak. Godspeed Ichigo.

Back to matters at hand:

"I have a delivery!" Urahara pauses, shifts albeit nervously under her gaze and wonders if he should choose his next words carefully, but he's never one to give up a chance at fanfare, he doubts he'll risk her wrath once she sees his "delivery."

He steps aside, revealing Yoruichi whose appearance Unohana merely blinks at, then her eyes stray to the cat's arms and widen.

"Unohana-san surely you remember your godson!? As you can see he's not in much of a position for social niceties, but he's here and that's what counts and he really needs your help!"

* * *

In and out he fades:

He groans, head pounding.

Did he get hit by 2 by 4 or an eighteen wheeler?

This must be what a hangover feels like, another reason to never drink.

His eyes are heavy, struggling against the currents of weariness.

Movement is strained; the feeling of thousands of needles pinpricking his skin… moving would be agony.

And in the distance there is sound.

Vaguely he hears voices that slowly become louder:

"Lay him there please, try not to jostle him more than you already have."

"That I can do, Unohana-san if you don't mind me asking, what do you plan on doing with him? Since Rangiku has unofficially decided to join the war."

There's silence as he's shifted onto what he assumes to be a cot, and he gasp sharply when his limbs are adjusted.

"That remains to be seen; once he's healed we'll take it from there."

And he's out again, missing anymore wisp of words.

The second time he awakens more aware of his surroundings.

And in considerably less pain.

His eyes open with less trouble, the pounding in his head now a dull throb.

He moves his limbs cautiously, numb from the lack of use, back stiff as he moves to sit up so very, very slowly.

There's a white curtain surrounding him as he lies on a cot by a wall, bandaged to the nth degree and he wonders where the hell is he? And what day is it?

"How long have I been out?" He mumbles to himself.

"Three days and you talk in your sleep, you pervert," a voice says behind the curtain.

"I do not!" He snaps instantly.

"Yet you deny being a pervert?" The question is sly, and the curtain moves as a person steps in.

He flushes, head turning in the direction of that grating voice. Blond pigtails, a constipated expression in the form of a constant scowl, and amber eyes… yep she's definitely a tomboy.

"I talk in my sleep and I'm a pervert?" A vein has appeared on Toushiro's temple. "Obviously my dreams are erotic," He deadpans and then sizes her up much to her indignation, "and I prefer my women well endowed, not flat chested little girls. Besides it makes you the pervert if you've been watching me sleep. I'm going back to bed, you're an eyesore."

He turns over and waits for it, women never like to be insulted, retaliation will be fierce and he's ready to defend himself if need be.

3, 2…..1.

"You mother fuck-"

"Hiyori-san I would appreciate if you didn't attack my patients, when you're supposed to be recovering yourself."

There is something downright scary about that statement or maybe just the way it was said. Toushiro shifts to see the exchange—the girl's upraised fist caught in the newcomer's hand, and there's a hint of panic in her amber eyes. Hiyori must have felt his gaze and seen the self-satisfaction there for she glares at him with all the intensity of a thousand suns. If looks could kill the prodigal son would be cremated.

In return he gives her an impassive look, dismissing her and pissing her off more. Yet there's little she can do so he turns his attention back to her restrainer, an obvious authority figure.

Shinigami robes, a long flowing white coat, an agreeable expression graces her face as Hiyori's fist is let go and she nudges the girl to leave.

Toushiro fights the childish urge to make a face as she departs; Hiyori instead gives him the one finger salute, and finds her head slapped with swift hand of the Shinigami. Hiyori yelps and moves quicker to get out of range.

"Hello Shiro-chan, it's been a long time since I've last seen you."

He twitches at the use of his mother's nickname for him, reigning in his usual retort.

A calculating gleam enters his eyes. Toushiro is always practical; he has no idea where he is, who he's surrounded by… there are too many question marks, observations can only do so much, answers are needed. This woman is obviously familiar with him or has a connection to his parents and Toushiro is also always polite—one catches more bees with honey than vinegar.

"Hello, I'm sorry to say I'm unfamiliar with you, though you know me or my mother or maybe…Ichimaru Gin my f-father?" He stumbles around the last word, a foreign notion on his tongue.

She smiles and he does not feel at ease, "Toushiro I'm Unohana Restu, a captain of the Gotei 13, a former colleague of Matsumto Rangiku—your mother—and your father Ichimaru Gin. Your mother sent you to be in my custody until further notice, I'm your godmother."

_Well shit._

He's got a distinct feeling the next couple of days are going to be extremely long.

* * *

Gin's interlude: Cunning man, grinning man, what secrets do you hide? Open your eyes-the window to the soul—and let us gleam some truths. Sliver haired, ice eyes, Mr. Snake in the grass, what makes you tick? Love. Love you say? 'Course its love, a love so hard yah can't breathe. Is there romantic under that creepy veneer? That and so much more.

* * *

_**This path I walk is a solitary one.** _

_**Fighting the good fight, leaving sacrifices in my wake,** _

_**But with each step, regrets weigh me down.** _

This can't be the final death he thinks, it's too damn bright to be final, or the spirit king is an even bigger sadistic bastard than he thought.

However the setting is familiar, slit eyes open and take in the décor that graces every patient room in the division four barracks.

If he's  _here_  (soul society), instead of  _there_  (Hueco Mundo), he must have failed.

_Damn,_  his timing had been all off.

Double agent, assassin, now-

He shies away from those thoughts, he's in no shape to try and fix what has been wronged.

Gin's eyes are sluggish, he sighs and the sound is rough and unsteady.

His body craves more sleep, yet his mind fights against it.

A restful sleep is a far away bliss for him.

Haunting dreams of what can't be.

So he must busy himself.

He wonders if he has the energy to harass the medics like the halcyon days of past. He and boredom had never been able to twist and tango, mischief was bound to follow.

He needed something to do before reality came crashing down around him, besides old habits die hard.

The next few days are going to be ridiculously long.


	4. Dreamin of sunshine

**Dreaming of sunshine:**

* * *

 

_**I dream of sunshine.** _

_**A tree that bears poisonous persimmons, a hell butterfly and a grinning silver snake** _

_**as Eden comes crashing down around us.** _

_**13 years ago…** _

" _Congratulations you're pregnant!"_

"… _What?"_

_It's a delayed reaction, really it is, and she's had two weeks to come to terms with this._

_Hell she's the one who approached her captain, confided in him then asked him to plan a meeting with his sister just to confirm what she already knows. Then she came up with a plan that could get them in heaps of trouble with Central 46, now that she thinks about it, it's very half assed circling around the possibility of little success. No one ever said Rangiku's a brain, but she's certainly no dumb blond._

_Besides she an optimist at heart and there's really no turning back now._

_The room is warded to the nth degree with illegal kido, and if she wasn't so dazed she'd show her appreciation—she'd always been a bit of a troublemaker, this blatant show of breaking the law just for her deserves some recognition, but words escape her at the moment._

_Beside her, the tenth division captain Unohana Kou laughs nervously as his older sister tilts her head and continues as if she wasn't interrupted._

" _You're about seven weeks along; you appear to be very healthy…"_

_Unohana Retsu's words trail off into white noise that blares loudly in Rangiku's ears. This isn't a happy occasion, but she'd be damned if she didn't make the best of it._

_It'd started when she began to train for bankai…again. Like the many times in the past, much of her energy had been drained, but this time she'd barely begun before being struck by extreme exhaustion. Strange, very strange, that had never happened before, the only time she'd ever heard of such a thing occurring was when a lieutenant in her regiment had become pregnant….Oh shit!_

_Then came the mornings from hell._

_Stumbling into the bathroom half conscious and dry heaving on an empty stomach, nothing like the hangovers she's suffered in the past, those could be solved with healing kido, this was ongoing and persistent._

_She'd known right then and there, but knowing and doing something about it are two separate things._

_For a second she basked in the rays of denial before coming to terms with her situation—saying the word pregnant is still difficult, nevertheless she's making progress._

_Rangiku lives for the moment, parties for the present, and is_ _**hello** _ _a drinking champion; she'd beaten Captain Kyoraku Shunsui twice when she was a lieutenant in his division. In a nut shell she isn't fit to be a mother._

" _Matsumoto-fukutaicho?"_

" _Rangiku?"_

_She snaps to attention to find her captain staring at her in concern, then glancing nervously at his sister who has that ever a pleasant smile on her face. Really Rangiku doesn't know who's creepier: Unohana Restu with the scary presence surrounding her caring figure or Gin with his sharp fox features-_

_Shit Gin. One of the main reasons she and her captain are here, time to put on her game face. What was she saying again?_

" _No I don't want to terminate the pregnancy and the father won't be involved," She sighs, Gin's long absences, disappearances acts without explanations wouldn't bode well for a child. "Gin isn't the fathering type."_

_A spike of spiritual pressure and a sharp glance are all signals of mild disproving from the healer, which are promptly dismissed by Rangiku; she feels no shame. Interrelations between subordinates and superior officers are not banned, but very much frowned upon, resulting sometimes in favoritism, lapse in judgment, etcetera._

_Her connection to Ichimaru Gin starts with a childhood bond formed from a shared need to survive. Changing into sometimes lovers and an estranged friendship kept under tight wraps._

_She had always found herself following the invisible footsteps of the one who left her behind. It was time to forge her own path._

_And the lack of trust between her and Ichimaru had doomed them from the start._

_Besides Soul Society isn't the place she wishes to raise her child. When she became a soul reaper her choices had been limited, it was either thrive or die. The Seireitei had seemed like paradise when one had grown up in the outer limits of the Rukongai, hungry and scavenging from the spiritual power that plagued her._

_She'd come from the academy starry eyed, ready to move her way up through the ranks and most of all to party after gaining a penchant for drinking. Over time the rose tinted glasses had lifted and with it came the reality of being a military dog._

_It's sobering to realize the government she serves so eagerly is corrupt._

_At least in the human world she would have choices living incognito, the afterlife seen as Eden is a lie and a half._

" _Onee-sama," Really her captain is laying it on thick, compared to familiar almost disrespectful way he usually addresses her, but who is Rangiku to judge she couldn't imagine growing up with such a sibling, she'd be wary too. Unohana Restu isn't the first Kenpachi for nothing. "We talked about this," he cries. "We need your connections."_

_And her help is needed indeed._

_Ukitake and Kyōraku taichos refer to her as senpai, Unohana Retsu must have major weight in the grand scheme of things. Best to play on that good will._

_It doesn't matter as long as the results are the same: Rangiku gets the heck of dodge and Gins never finds about her baby._

_Duplicity, manipulation, taking advantage of good will blah, blah, blah… she feels remorse, really she does, but a mother will move heaven and Earth for her child and she might as well start now._

_She thinks what spurs this on is the realization that even though marriage or even children is nowhere in the near future for her, the possibility that she may never have those two things really turns the tables. Gin has always been at the centerfold of such rare thoughts; this is her chance to have a piece of him and herself._

_Now their thread of fate hung on the goodwill of one of the founding captains. Really she's got to learn how to play her cards right; no wonder she sucks at poker._

_"Hush Kou-chan, no need to raise your voice, I know exactly what you speak of. I like Matsumoto-fukutaicho. She's managed to keep you alive while following your lead, that speaks a lot about her character if she's able to put up with you; of course I'll help." All of this is said in such a polite manner that Rangiku has to look at her captain who winces, then flushes to realize he's been insulted._

_Oooh triple burn: endearment, leadership skills, and maturity level._

" _Nee-san!" he protest weakly, Retsu smiles, who knows what the score is between the two, but it looks as if the older sibling is in the lead._

_Oh. Rangiku then realizes, she said, 'Of course I'll help.' She sags in relief; she's barely accomplished all that she needs to do, yet she can honestly say phase one is complete._

" _Now," Retsu begins, "A fellow named Urahara Kisuke owes me a few favors. The exiled Urahara-san is the former captain of the 12th division…."_

_A plan is created, the seed of it blossoming under the connections of one Unohana Retsu and the empathy of her brother, and the rookie cunning of a mother-to-be._

_It is not full proof, but the kinks will be worked out:_

_She is to lead a mission to the human world; luckily section 63 has had a large influx of hollows, thus requiring constant maintenance until the problem is solved. Then become the tragic casualty or rather the commanding officer who died protecting her platoon of soldiers—a befitting death for a military dog._

_The double-ganger will be a courtesy call of the current 12th division captain, who doesn't owe Retsu-taicho a favor; rather they are fond of each other. Rangiku shudders at the thought of a friendship between the two, enough said._

_A body won't be found; she'll soul particles on the wind from then on._   _From there she is to arrive in Karakura town, an epicenter for spiritual pressure. At Urahara's Shop she'll be expected, and then the ball really begins to roll. She'll be given all that she needs to start a new life, Unohana will deliver her baby and-_

_Hold up:_

" _What will you gain by helping me?" Questions Rangiku suspiciously._

_Kou looks a bit outraged at her, after all should this go wrong there will be repercussions for all._

_The gleam in Unohana Retsu's eyes are both calculating and sincere, "Children of captain class shinigami are always powerful, influence over them is another power altogether."_

_There's a lot Rangiku can say to that, a few angry words are at the tip of her tongue._

_To look a gift horse in the mouth or shut up…she nods hesitantly this is for her baby, one of the many things that will come to bite her in the ass, but right now sacrifices must be made._

_Besides at the end of the day what are we all but puppets on a grand stage?_

_They go back to their machinations._

_**It's not a matter of destiny,** _

_**Greatness is inevitable for the prodigal son,** _

_**But for now rest your head; your time shall one day come.** _

It's a novel experience.

Genius has no limits—debatable—when curiosity bothers him, questions are asked, answers are demanded.

Unohana Retsu answers him candidly, there's no indulgence in her voice as most adults seem to gain when addressing him, a mere child who should be seen not heard. Nor does she seem threatened by his intellect or general apathy.

It's quite refreshing.

When his check overs are done she informs him she'll answer his questions on her next visit. Toushiro is usually a patient person, but this wait is… unacceptable.

His injuries still pain him, however his recovery's happening at a swift rate, the moment he's on his feet he follows her as she goes about her rounds, firing questions and becoming her unofficial assistant.

And while she answers his questions he learns.

Unohana-taicho says his spiritual pressure is very developed for his age, she expects no less. She teaches simple techniques. Healing kido she calls it, something Ka-san has performed on him in the past when his curiosity would get the best of him and he'd get injured in the process—quite rare, but he is a boy prone to being rough and tumbling.

Comparisons are drawn, it's unfair yet he can't help but draw parallels between Rangiku and Retsu. Ka-san has always fed his inquisitiveness, but constantly kept information, something that has frustrated him to no end. In their short acquaintance Unohana not only encourages him to continue his unrelenting queries, but answers him truthfully.

Knowledge is power, something Toushiro always absorbs.

They speak of many subjects, some in depth, others are glossed over:

Soul Society no longer becomes a place shrouded in mystery. It becomes quite fascinating to know that the afterlife is a… dystopia that humans are unaware of. The dynamics of Soul Society show a trickle down affect: from the spirit king, to the Central 46 ruled with an iron fist by the noble houses, then to the Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13, and onward.

Shinigami work for the greater good he concludes from all the explanations his godmother gives him. This "greater good" is a double edged sword to keep the balance between the human world, the spiritual world, and hueco mundo.

He wants to know how and why Ka-san left Soul Society.

To this the fourth division captain pauses in the midst of changing compresses and replies, "I helped Matsumoto-san fake her death, though her reasons are her own… this is not my tale to tell."

And that's that, the issue is left hanging in the air, a wisp to be grasped at a later date.

They move on.

On some levels he can understand why Ka-san kept him in the dark about his background, and yet that dies a horrible death as he becomes more in the know.

It is not just Unohana he harasses ...  _er…_  includes in his inquiries. No one is spared from his wrath, woe to all who gain his interest; the visored in particular grow weary, then at ease.

Despite his serious nature, Toushiro is his mother's son. Sociable, even charming when he needs to be and Toushiro is anything if not polite—a reference to his mother, a smile that is all Matsumoto, and genuine interest in their memories of her as student at the academy, as a seated officer, or as co-caption. Then their insights/stories became his for the taking.

Yet he spends most his time in this temporary sickbay with Unohana and curiosity serves him well:

The war that has encompassed those of the spiritual persuasion, this "Winter War" that he has become another victim of due to his parents, is the workings of a mad man. A person who is similar to himself, and from what Toushiro understands reached the end of his tether. Those select individuals that are genius' function on a different sphere from other people, and it's their humanity that tie them down to the earth. Aizen Sosuke obviously gave up all weakness and found himself quite alone, and thus the current madness.

To err is to human and Toushiro embraces all his shortcomings, and will choose the foolish route over the most efficient always.

He has no intention of becoming a nutcase.

Despite his sociopathic tendencies Aizen Sosuke is brilliant, or rather a thief riding on the coattails of Urahara Kisuke's brilliance. Arrancars, the Esada, the hybrid Kurosaki Ichigo—quincy,hollow,human, shingami—the vizards.

It is all quite fascinating.

This Urahara Kisuke Unohana speaks of fondly he's met apparently when he was dead to the world, and a mention of a Kurotsuchi Mayuri he doesn't want to be within a mile radius of.

It appears Soul Society breeds prodigies like a broodmare, makes enemies of them, and barely keeps a leash on the ones that stay.

This does not bode well for him.

Another example includes his father, who's apparently a… double agent.

To this the prodigal son treads lightly, this reeks of conspiracy.

His curiosity burns with the might of a thousand suns, and yet he can't bring himself to speak. This hesitation chafes him, and continues as Unohana mentions Ichimaru in passing. Toushiro swears she knows he wants to ask about his father, and purposely avoids going into detail. He couldn't understand the fear people showed her before when she smiles, however he's getting the gist of it. Sadistic bitch.

And so the topic of Gin goes unsaid.

Until now:

"Toushiro," Unohana holds her cup of tea with grace and sips.

"Hai," he murmurs absently, neck deep in paperwork. Toushiro likes to be organized; the discovery of his penchant for paperwork is a godsend for the frazzled seated officers. This war is conjuring more paperwork that can be processed.

"We're going to be relocating back to the division four barracks and leaving this warehouse."

Icy teal eyes widen and he stills, reading between the lines. Many things go unsaid in that statement:

They'll be leaving the warehouse and going to the spirit world.

The likelihood of meeting his father is high.

He chooses his next words carefully, "Will I be meeting him?"

The name goes unsaid, for a moment Toushiro curses himself for fearing to say  _his_ name _._ And yet the real possibility of meeting the man who fathered him, whose name he only gleamed a few days ago is suddenly daunting.

"Shiro-chan," She replies, "that's up to you."

* * *

Two days later the Senkaimon opens.

A hell butterfly appears to guide them.

Adieu is bidden to those who warrant it.

He finally gives into that urge to make a face at Hiyori, and narrowly avoids her well-aimed sandals at his head.

Through the Senkaimon he steps, from the brilliant light into the fading dusk of Soul Society. Following Unohana's lead, taking in his surroundings, noting things of interest absently, filing them away for later.

He is rather pensive.

Over the last two days his thoughts have been rather single minded, creating situations in his head, mentally preparing himself. Toushiro doesn't believe in denial, and rather not delay the unavoidable.

And now he stands down the hall, piles of paperwork in hand—the seated officers here are even more useless—under the guise of filing them.

This is the hour of reckoning.

For here, down the hall is a curiosity that has existed over his head like a bad omen for his whole life. An enigma that will have a face, voice, personality to match the name he's just learned and perhaps even step into the role of— _the wish is so childish and he struggles to dash it away._

He's never needed him before so why should it matter all of sudden. It shouldn't,  _but it does._

Mouth dry, he swallows hard. Putting the folders down, and pinches the bridge of his nose. And then runs his hands through white hair tinged silver, all telltale signs of frustration, maybe even a smidgen of anxiety.

At his back Retsu appears, silently pushing him forward.

Toushiro glances at her from over his shoulder for a moment, and then moves along leaving the folders behind.

It's now or never.

_**Jump out a building,** _

_**Jump out a window,** _

_**Set yourself on fire,** _

_**Just remember this is all one great lark.** _

… _ **.Not.**_

On September 25th worlds collide:

Idleness… something he usually can't abide by.

And he isn't, he's scheming, working in the shadows doing what he does best: calling upon favors, securing loyalty, gathering evidence in his defense.

For there is to be a trail,  _pretense_  they say. Gin's not taking any chances, the bureaucrats and aristocrats that run the Central 46 have been known—at least certain parties—for their favoritism and condemnation to save face value. Aizen killed the most recent lot; hopefully the new members will have their heads screwed on straight.

The chopping block can wait, here and now he's zen, savoring the moment eating dried persimmon atop his hospital bed, watching the sunset with the ghosts of his past.

It's been a long time since he's been able to breathe.

Then there's a disturbance in the force; Gin tenses.

An unfamiliar reiatsu, he'd be impressed by the wielder's control if it wasn't so tightly wound. Ouch that's gotta hurt, obviously he's has no formal training, his zanpakutou must be in pain, screaming at'em; Gin relaxes but stays alert.

This person's deigned to stop right outside his open door, and he wonders if he should turn around and greet him. Naw that would require being polite and he isn't up to the task. Ten minutes pass by and this stranger has yet to speak, Gin has no intention of breaking the silence, he's gonna revel in it until it becomes awkward and this stranger leaves.

That is until the stranger speaks, sprirt king and all be damned:

"Ah," the tone is deadpanned, "Ka-san's favorite fruit is persimmon; she must have gotten it from you. I'm not surprised."

" _Ran-chan…"_ Slips from his tongue reverently as he whips around, almost expecting her to be there.

Instead there's a boy, a preteen really but let's not fuck around with logistics and details here, cause Gin's usually five steps ahead of most people and  _this_ right here is so out of left field.

His mind is racing and drawing conclusions.

He's seeing  _her_  in this boy's familiar features: Rangiku's full pouting lips set in a frown, the shape of her eyes, hell the way he's crossing his arms, staring back defiantly under Gin's scrutiny.

The boy tilts his head, flexing long tapered fingers and Gin's starting to see himself.

Gin's eyes are wide and  _the same shade as this boy's_.

It's been thirteen give or take years since he's seen Rangiku, this boy is about that age.

Somewhere Shiba Isshin is laughing his ass off; he used to wax poetic about a possible kid between Gin and Ran-chan.

It takes a lot to shock Ichimaru Gin, usually he's the one delivering crippling news, hell he makes a sport of it. There's a first time for everything, and these first times have been happening a lot recently, he doesn't like it.

After a lengthy silence where the tension has grown to a ridiculous rate, the kid fidgets, and then speaks, "I've been told if I wanted to hear childhood stories about my mother I should find the person who knows her best," the kid pauses… almost dramatically and delivers a devastating line that knocks the wind out of Mr. snake in the grass, "I should find my father."

There's a flash of vulnerability that crosses the boy's stoic face, before he says in a matter-of-fact tone, "You're Ichimaru Gin I presume, I'm Hitsugaya Toushiro. Matsumoto Rangiku's my mother, and you're… my—"

"Father," Gin breaths– _right of out the mouths of babes_ —as he stares at this boy— _his son!_ —Gin gets the strangest urge to ruffle his white— _almost silver_ —hair, call him "little man"—he's kinda on the short side—just to see how he'll react.

Great his first parental urge is to irritate his kid— _really he's asking for it, so serious!_ And Gin's smile is back, his eyes are still wide though, "Your mum was always a spit fire, I shouldn't have underestimated her. Rangiku really got one over on me."

The kid—Toushiro looks uncomfortable, but not enough to let a cheeky ass comment slip through, "Obviously she didn't trust you."

He glares at him and really Gin's starting to see a lot of himself in Toushiro. The idea of him and Rangiku in one person is an entirely different concept from having actual person in the flesh,  _little shit._

That urge he was fighting earlier, yeah no more.

Gin's up, moving swiftly as much his still healing injuries will let him, but before he can touch that gravity defying head of hair a solid wall of ice appears between them. Gin's grin widens hiding his surprise, his kid has got mad potential, and instincts if the sudden fear in his eyes have anything to say; Toushiro's been through hell recently. Gin noticed the bandages under his kimono earlier and the stiff way he held himself.

Toushiro's got this deer caught in headlights look, and Gin can't blame him, he's a relative stranger moving into his kid's personal space without warning, his hackles would be raised too.

"Chill kid, I'm not gonna hurt yah." The prodigal son eyes him cautiously and nods; the barrier disperses.

Gin's hand reaches out between them, a peace offering, Toushiro eyes the hand so like his own. It comes down his head, "You're a bit on the short side, aint yah Shiro-chan?"

Ice eyes flash fiercely— _so much like Ran-chan—_ as he bites out, "Who the hell are you calling short?"

"You little man, your still a kid, you'll get your growth spurt…eventually." Gins pulls his son into a half hug, Toushiro tenses then relaxes bringing up a hand and clutching his father's heavy haori. Gin confides, "If I'd known about you, I'd have been there every step of the way."

"That's a lie," Toushiro replies bluntly, voice slightly muffled, "you had a mission, but… I would have liked you there too."

_Kid's right, if I'd known I still would have gone through with it, except I'd have two reasons instead of one._

Gin's arm tightens around him before he gently pushes him away, saying gruffly, "Enough of this mushy stuff, now tell me who put yah through the wringer?"


	5. Where are you going? Where have you been?

**Disclaimer:**  Characters belong to Tite Kubo, chapter title to Joyce Carol Oates, and alternative plot belongs to me, don't sue… seriously.

* * *

**Where are you going? Where have you been?:**

_**Ice or fire?** _

_**No.** _

_**It started with a bang; it'll end in a bang.** _

Pause, rewind back to September 16th where the curiosities reach their grim conclusion:

In the end a grave is not needed, let alone two.

Overkill is the game, though efficiency is the plan.

Grimmjow dies the same way he fights, lives, and breathes.

It goes like this:

Above the neighborhood they stand as specters that dance to and fro.

And in between them the world becomes flooded with light and shadow.

A supernova.

The Gran Rey Cero and Arashi no Hai meet, likening to two small scale natural disasters—a tornado and a lightening/thunderstorm. Attacks of raw spiritual energy crashing into each other, overlapping in plumes of smoke and crackling light. Each warring to overcome the other, until they cancel out.

Then they condense, before exploding outward.

A supernova that's backlash sends them flying.

This is the  **distraction**.

Her breathing's harsh, tossed back several feet, she struggles to gain her footing. Using her scabbard to gain traction as she lands on the Earth at their feet, kicking up dust as she slides, then comes to a stop.

This bankai business is not the work of amateurs, and rookie she's not, Rangiku isn't savvy in wielding her bankai. Practice makes perfection, and more than a decade out of commission is taking its toll.

Yet the rush of battle, the thrill of it pounding in her blood, next to that dire need to rain down hell on this espada makes up for the exhaustion creeping its way through her bones and limbs.

Then he's there at her side, appearing more battle torn than she. Deep gashes grace his form in random places, the metal particles from her blade having sharpened to become lethal on the winds of ash.

She gasps—at the sight of him or his mere proximity? She doesn't know nor care, a deep sense of satisfaction starts to burns within and it will only be sated once he's gone. For face value her scabbard's brought up as a weak defense, to which he bats away. Flinching is not an option nor is moving away to shunpo, this is the opportunity she's been waiting for.

Grimmjow's speed makes him a worthy foe, she's waited and bided her time and now he's wide open, and she'll sacrifice herself for a few injuries just to bring him down.

If Grimmjow senses the danger, it's beyond him. The thirst for blood and the madness rear their mighty heads as he cackles and grins widely.

He shoves his zanpakutou into the ground beside him, tutting, "Shinigami, shinigami, shinigami when will you ever learn?"

He grasps her sword arm, places an unforgiving grip on her left shoulder, and then plants his foot in her back, proceeding to pull. Not quickly for Grimmjow's a sadist, and if he had his way Toushiro will die the slow agonizing death he wants. Gradually he pulls for the minute tear of muscles, "Wait for it, wait for it."

A scream bubbles from Rangiku lips.

Then a resounding pop as her arm is pulled from her shoulder, "Music to my ears. Now," he grins, jabbing two fingers into her dislocated shoulder, "scream for me!"

That scream pitches a fits and is released, however it's not what he wants to hear, "Sansei no Hai  _(Aicdic Ash)._ "

This is the  **poison**.

The residual ash left in the air, left in the six espada's open wounds becomes toxic. The left over debris from Arashi no Hai gathers, spreading around them in an unholy cloud. Varying shades of grey darkening as the fog of ash becomes thicker.

The ash made of metals seems to vibrate in the air. Getting louder and louder until what sounds like a menacing growl, becomes a dull roar. The image of a restless lioness comes to mind, waiting for its signal to attack.

"What fuck is this?" The sixth espada proclaims, having let Rangiku's now limp arm fall to her side, but the grip on her shoulder has tightened greatly in his confusion.

The bosom blonde feels strangely detached from her pain, yet the satisfaction blooms and she grins, "This is your death dealer."

Lazy Haineko had only taught Rangiku two attacks, both destructive in nature yet this one is more deadly… and gruesome. With glee, Rangiku says, "Growl Haineko."

The surrounding ash attaches to Grimmjow like a second skin, he spews off profanities, stumbling backwards. To the ground he falls, rolling around as if caught on fire, convulsing and clawing at his skin.

Rangiku stands slowly, wary of her arm and then stares at this would be assassin.

"Hold still this will only hurt for a moment,"Rangiku barks harshly, then murmurs, "Bakudō # 4. Hainawa." Brilliant yellow light burst from the hand of her functioning arm, in the form of a long rope which lassos itself around the sixth espada, then mutters the final kido spell _, "Carriage of thunder, bridge of a spinning wheel. With light, divide this into six!_ Bakudo #61: Rikujokoro."

Acidic Ash is the stuff of nightmares; it can be a quick, painful death or an agonizingly slow one. The latter is the option here. "Melt him asunder Haineko."

She's never used this attack on anyone before and flinches away as the burn begins, the sickening stench of flesh melting from its very bones, from inside and out. Arrancars can regenerate limbs, but not major organs, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez will not survive this encounter.

She didn't even get to see his resurrección.

Pity.

Rangiku is bent on revenge, but she is not cruel. She can't ignore his howls of pain, not a bone of sadism exist in her body, so she calls upon her counterpart to get his moment of glory, "Shinji!"

"On it Rangiku, was wondering when you would put the poor sod out of his misery!"

"Rather you were waiting to still my thunder!"

"Would have done it anyway, I'm the better story teller, you always forget details!"

It's quite the morbid scene as they banter: Shinji standing above them, Rangiku clutching her arm, and Grimmjow howling himself raw he melts so very slowly.

Anyhow, mercy is shown:

This is the  **execution.**

And Shinji is there, hollow masked and his soul slayer swinging high, then coming down with great might, separating head from body in a nice clean cut.

The screams have stopped, and soon the espada shall be ash on the wind. She wonders if arrancars can be purified, with that many hollows accumulated to make a Vasto lorde the sin of bearing all those souls may be too great.

She'd giving herself a headache; the fate Grimmjow's soul or souls is neither here nor there.

Shinji comes to stand next to her, idly picking his nose, "Idiot, are you just going to stand there, looking all sad. You've killed before and you'll do it again."

Rangiku doesn't bother to deny it; the beaver's always been too perceptive. Instead she rolls her eyes, clutching her right arm gingerly, this isn't the first time it's been dislocated, the torn muscles will have to be taken care of later though. "Be useful and help me get this back into place, it hurts like hell."

"Yah, yah, hope you know if you got anything to take of here, you're out of luck. Urahara took your gigai, you've got to go to Karakura to get it back," He replies flippantly.

"That meddling bastard!"

It appears she'll be joining another battle sooner than she likes.

_**Dead as a doornail?** _

_**Not quite.** _

_**Resurrection?** _

_**Not really.** _

_**Deception?** _

_**You're getting warmer.** _

It is not a sin to die in battle, rather an honor to fight for what one believes in.

This is the mantra Kira Izuru repeats to himself unfailingly, though the repetition's beginning to falter like record on a phonograph.

Apprehension knits his brow and he tries to steady the tremble in his hands, he feels no fear and yet fear becomes him.

Fighting the good fight is the reason he's here.

Beheading the fraccion of one third espada is the reason he's facing her wrath. Not his greatest idea, but desperate times call for desperate measures when the lot of his surrounding comrades had fallen to the blades of her fraccion.

Wabisuke will falter if he falls flat and so he won't, he'll stand his ground.

Saying and doing are two separate things when the third Espada's unsheathing her zanpakutou for the first time, nor when her reiatsu's all-consuming and he feels as if he's being hammered down.

She moves with startling speed, and as her blade comes down, her green eyes flashing retribution. Kira moves the angled form of his sword to defend.

Yet it's not his blade that feel the vibrations of steel hitting steel at great forces, rather another's. The blond hair is familiar and it's not until she forces back the espada's zanpakutou does he recognize the face.

"Matsumoto-fukutaicho!?" He chokes out; the dead can't rise if they were never dead in the first place. Kira finds himself stunned in place, the impossible becoming possible before his very eyes.

"Not quite, but close enough."

"What..!?" The shock's evident in his voice, and now is neither the time nor place to deal with it. Rangiku is wounded and running on adrenaline and borrowed energy.

"Kira, I need you to watch my back and I'll watch yours, go it?"

"H-hai," He replies unsteadily and tries his best to focus on the task at hand. Feet away Harribel Tia has retreated, and watches them with piercing eyes waiting for their next move.

As they move into stance next to each other for combat, Rangiku thinks perhaps she can convince this one; speak sense instead of seeking bloodshed once again. Seek an alliance with the arrancars so she and her son may know some peace, even when Aizen's dead.

Her wish is not unfounded.

The possibility is made once Aizen betrays his final Espada.

_**Heavy is the crown upon thy head,** _

_**Thrust it away** _

_**and forge it anew.** _

Fast forward to the present time:

Five cards are laid on the table top, issuing groans from the surrounding parties as they shake their heads in disbelief.

"I win… again," Toushiro declares flatly, "pay up."

"That's the third time!"

"The kid's a beast."

He's playing cards with officers in the fourth squad and patients from other various divisions. Apparently gambling is a past time in the medical bay, as any physical exertion is frowned upon and brings about Unohana's evil eye.

After the first round Gin had disappeared to parts unknown, leaving Toushiro to prove not only is he the savior of paperwork, but also a demon who takes all their money and valuables they're stupid enough to put up—their loss his gain.

"Who convinced us to play?"

Convinced is a nicer word than threatened, anyhow speak of the devil and he shall appear. "Lost again eh?"

This issues another round of groans, and some idiot calling for a rematch… again.

Gin stands in the opened doorway, grin more amused and satisfied than its usual mocking, the king of smiling intimidation probably thinks he's going to get in on Toushiro's winnings. No chance in hell of that happening. "You're a better player than Ran-chan."

"Chichiue," Toushiro addresses. Tou-san falters, the title catching him off guard. He'd taken to calling Gin that aloud and in his head.

The first time Gin nearly tripped, and Toushiro would not deny he liked shocking his father, hell every time he said it he shocked anyone they happened to be with or around. Rumors fly like wild fire through the grape vine in Soul Society, only the combined presences of his godmother and Gin kept his identity and position from being displayed in neon lights to all. The subject of Hitsugaya Toushiro is better left unsaid, better to be speculated on in private thoughts than out in the open.

Besides who in their right mind wants to face Unohana-taicho, and the supposed traitor Ichimaru—even the greatest gossips have a sense of self-preservation… he thinks.

Toushiro doesn't particularly care who finds out, shit's bound to hit the fan sooner or later, but he does not want to be stared at… like now. He glares at his fellow players; really they should be used to it.

"Chichiue," Toushiro says again and grins slightly when the man in question opens his eyes and glares at him. He's been doing that a lot lately—opening his eyes that is—another rarity Toshiro hears, "I grew up learning the ins and outs of the bar business. Besides I had to learn when Ka-san nearly lost the deed to her bar while she drunkenly gambled. I was seven."

Not to say Rangiku's a bad mother, she's just… scattered brained when sloshed.

"She always was a bad poker player," Gin muses aloud.

"You're worse than her," Toushiro accuses.

"I have no idea what your talk'in about," Gin denies poorly, "I let you win, you're 300 years too early to really beat me. 'Sides as a parent I've gotta give you the chance to grow, and by letting you win I'm helping your self-esteem."

Toushiro stares at him and wants to say  _did you read that in some crack pot parental guide while you disappeared into parts unknown?_ Instead he calls him out on his bullshit… politely, Toushiro is anything if not polite, "You're making this parenting thing a bit ridiculous, maybe you should wing it, play it by ear for now."

"Nope, I'm bonding with you, if I'm gonna do this, I plan to do it right."

Right. Bonding by gambling, Toushiro would say that's teaching bad habits, but then he'd be a hypocrite. Living above a bar, and being exposed to more than a few vices—smoking, drinking, gambling—makes him pretty much immune.

Nevertheless he'll give Gin the benefit of the doubt, this whole fatherhood thing sprung upon him without even the usual nine months to prepare. Some men would walk the away, he's stepping to the plate. Tou-san shows that he  _cares_ , that he's  _trying_. And that means a hell of a lot to the prodigal son.

"Come on Shiro-chan, say goodbye to your friends, we're going on a field trip."

Their peanut gallery stifles snickers; there are so many things wrong with that statement.

Toushiro glares at Gin whose grin is mocking once again. Benefit of the doubt his ass.

With one irritating parent, what the world prompted him to find the other?

* * *

Leisurely they walk, their destination unknown—at least to one of them.

Their thoughts their own, echoing in the silence between them.

At Gin's side is the familiar weight of his zanpakutou thrumming with life, and beside Shinso lays another, an Asauchi without a name… yet.

One of the reasons he'd been AWOL during Toushiro's reign as the gambling demon.

Moments ago he'd spoken to one Unohana Retsu as he had many times since encountering the kid. This time though Gin had been so very, very serious for the matter at hand is a subject that bonds the two captains.

Retsu's the parental locos in Rangiku's absence, making decisions for the kid in her interest. He isn't about to usurp Retsu's authority due to some misguided biological right. Gin makes nice with the god mother, considering recent revelations he doubts Rangiku even trust him with Toushiro….

Gin tries hard not to think on Ran-chan's deception, and fails constantly. Funny when the tables are turned.

They didn't speak of general information as they had done before or thwarting the spread of his son's identity. Rather they got down to the nitty-gritty.

Toushiro's an anomaly.

Soul Society's government and the powers that be don't take well to anomalies. Either prove to be useful by being an ally, or perish if proven to be an annoyance disturbing the balance.

And woe to all that find themselves on the chopping block.

Thus the need to be useful.

Their exchange retained the following:

" _No idea what Ran-chan's plan is, I do know what to expect from our end. Gonna give the kid a crash course in his Shinigami powers… he needs it."_

_Tea in hand, Unohana nods in agreement, "I've shown him Kaidō and a few basic Bakudo. As expected he excelled, if he'd gone to the Shin'ō Academy perhaps he would have beaten yours and Shiba Kaien's record."_

' _He is,' Gin thinks, 'a credit to both of his parents.'_

" _I planned on giving him an_   _Asauchi," Unohana continues, "You've probably noticed that when he sleeps a barrier must be put up or else he'd freeze the entire medical wing."_

" _Yeah," Gin replies, "Toushiro has a powerful reiatsu, I'd introduce'im to Zaraki if I thought he didn't know his soul slayer's name, but he does… I think he's scared of it or something."_

_What goes unsaid is that while raw power has its advantages, there's nothing like the partnership between a Shinigami and zanpakutou._

" _Maybe there's another way," The devious glint in the 4_ _th_ _division captain's eye is answer enough for Gin._

In his musings Gin whistles an annoying ditty cheerfully, Toushiro beside him with his arms crossed, eyes clouded over in thought until they focus and note something of interest.

For something here does not belong, something here is quite wrong. And this is a curiosity he can't ignore so he ventures, "For a man who defected and branded a traitor, you walk around Soul Society without a care in the world."

The whistling doesn't stop much to Toushiro's ire, Gin take his sweet time answering.

Many things can be said to that query, as far as Ichimaru's concerned the spirit world owes him big time. The fact that he did all this for Rangiku and ultimately had one giant hitch in his mission that nearly got him killed are all small details in this matter. If Soul Society at large has a problem with his presence and general actions, the lot of them can go hang.

He'd briefly told Toushiro about his stint as a double agent but not the reason why, and was promptly accused of martyrdom. Why disillusion the kid of his supposed good qualities? If he thought Gin had a martyr complex for a place Gin could see burn to the ground and would step out of the flames instead of lending a helping hand, then so be it.

Obviously he says none of this, instead Gin chooses to be vague, "Ah, I prefer supposed traitor, the defection was part of the job description, side's it all pretense."

"Don't you have a trail in two days?" ask Toushiro patronizingly, if his father could be irritatingly vague, he would return the favor. Eye for an eye, aggravation for annoyance.

" _Pretense_ , Shiro-chan," that wipes that small smug smirk off of Toushiro's face, and the ever present frown's back with a vengeance, "Our field trip has barely begun. Come along."

Toushiro nods, then his frown deepens, "Do we even have permission to leave the medical bay? I don't have a death wish, I don't know about you."

Unohana's glittering eyes full of threat appears in his mind, and he shudders at the thought.

"Yep, one of the reasons why I left during the game, not risking Retsu-taicho's wrath."

The ice harbinger sighs in relief.

The journey continues in silence. Through twist and turns, left and rights solid walls disappear as does the various building, monochromes fading away to vegetation and open fields… training fields.

He has to move quickly to catch the bokken Gin throws at him unceremoniously, it lands firmly in his hands and he test the weight, holds the wooden sword with a familiarity of brief acquaintance.

"Good reflexes," Gin notes, Toushiro looks up to see that he holds one as well. Tou-san's zanpakutou set aside a few feet away, it's companion sword beside it. It's not rocket science, the dots are beginning to form and connect, he can see where this is going:

Bokken, training field, Mano a mano—he's not going to like this.

"Obviously Rangiku didn't train you, yet you've done this before." It's not a statement, there's a question lurking beneath the surface, and it's certainly not rhetorical.

He was right; he isn't going to like this.

Toushiro arches a brow and echoes Gin's usual mocking tone. "So, are you going to train me or have you dragged me out here to talk about our feelings and let out my aggression via bokken? If so, therapy isn't your calling, this is a terrible location for confessions and breakthroughs."

Gin tilts his head, grin becoming a frown, "You're avoiding the question."

"Yes," Toushiro acknowledges, "yet you never ask a question."

"Course I did," Ichimaru's grin is back, as he catches his son in his web, "Your attempt at avoidance is amateur at best, so rookie don't bullshit a master. You've done this before, who taught yah?"

The prodigal son remains stubbornly silent, even if a sense of foreboding creates knots that twist within his stomach.

"Then let's talk about why you refuse to say your soul slayer's name," Toushiro tensing up does not go unseen, "Didn't think I'd notice, eh? Felt you coming from a mile away, impressive how well you control your reiatsu. Not so much when it's so tightly wound, it'll likely snap you in half at any given moment."

Halfheartedly moving the wooden sword in forms from memories of yesteryears, he then finally deigns to answer. "Briefly, I've done this before."

Getting answers from the kid is going to be like pulling teeth; much like Gin Toushiro doesn't do emotional displays, and prefers to let his actions speak for him.

"Ka-san enrolled me in kendo and a martial art classes. I stuck around for the basics. I'm a scholar; other pursuits were more worthy of my time."

And really that's the truth of the matter. The scion of two Shinigami he may be, but under his mother's will he'd been brought up in the human world, lived as a human, had planned to thrive as a human. Some form of normalcy—how he hated that word, he's anything but ordinary—and his own free will. And yet the world has been tossed on its axis, and all he can do is adapt to his new circumstances—easier said than done.

"Still those classes did give me ideas on how to suppress my reiatsu," Toushiro continues,  _and when I think about it, it was Ka-san's roundabout way of teaching me. She never pressured me into continuing…._ Shame burns through him and bitter irony coats his next words, "Never thought I'd actually need them."

"I think it always saddened her that I saw my powers as a nuisance—me denying a apart of myself," The confession claws and scratches its way up his throat, and Toushiro releases it blandly, this need to explain himself is exhausting.

"Seeing ghosts, feeling hollows from miles away, freezing everything in sight in a fit of pique, yes it's an annoyance. I blamed Ka-san for keeping secrets, keeping me in the dark. Grimmjow sought to enlighten me."

This is the most Toushiro's spoken in the two days they've been around each other, the kid doesn't do monologues, actions and a few pointed words and he calls it a day.

Teasing and exchanging barbs to fill the awkward silences between them as they try and find steady ground, and this is what Gin supposes will be their foundation.

Gin thinks of his actions, Rangiku's actions, and wonders at the roads untaken, the what ifs and what could have beens. And then there's their son at the center, who asked for none of this, who's apathetic and seems to take it all with a grain of salt. That is until he speaks, nobody would be the wiser, unless he lets them in. At least he's opening up.

"However what's done is done," Toushiro concludes and Gin speaks before the boy shuts down.

"Ya got me and your ma's best qualities, golden child. I'm gonna teach ya, do my best, do my part. Your Ka-san had her chance to shine, I'm gonna burn bright, and make you shine brighter. Can't be your dead beat dad forever, something's gotta give."

Reassurance Ichimaru style. Toushiro stifles a smile; he's starting to see the upside of having a second irritating parent.

* * *

And so the crash course begins:

"Use ya opponent's momentum against 'em," Gin instructs and beckons him forward, "come."

Above he appears, eclipsing the sun, shadow falling over Gin below. Both hands grasping the bokken, bringing the wooden sword down in a direct attack, Gin observes him impassively. The goal is to make Tou-san move from his place, Toushiro feints with quick speed—nowhere near shunpo level—bluring to reappear at Ichimaru's side, positioning his sword into an upward thrust.

When Gin deftly catches the wooden blade and Toushiro's wrist, he remarks idly, "Speed is an asset, but-"

To which Toushiro brings up his left knee, forcing Ichimaru to release his bokken, blocking his incoming blow. An opening is made, yet can't be exploited as Gin spins his son around clasping Toushiro's wrist behind his back. The sudden movement causing the sword to fall from his grasp as Gin pushes him forward and out of range.

And through this whole interaction Gin has not moved an inch from where he planted his feet.

Toushiro stumbles, regains his footing as his father continues his train of thought, "But in this case it's your foe, here."

He catches the bokken with more grace than before, and moves back into position.

"Ready?" Gin questions, Toushiro nods in the positive, "Then again."

And so it continues:

"When you were fighting Grimmjow, were you able to defend yourself?"

A tap on the ankle for correction, he loosens his stance.

"Somewhat, my powers work like a defense mechanism, acting off my emotions without my consent. I was in danger so it was on high alert. When dealing with Grimmjow I used them for the first time, it was a learning experience, and by the time I adapted to them I was cut down."

A storm of swords is how Gin's quick movements appear, Toushiro struggles to keep up. Slow lessons would be an insult, hands on and visual learning is the key here and Toushiro adapts quickly—he thrives. If his stances are wrong he's corrected with a swift tap on the offending limb. When a series of kata's are completed, their utilized in mock battle between father and son, giving Toushiro an example to follow.

"Intent to kill is what makes your reiatsu react, prepare yourself…. I see an opening."

Mad as a hatter Gin grins, and his swordplay becomes lethal. And if Toushiro struggled before, he's only saved by his reiatsu responding to the sudden shift and spiking, lashing out at the threat. He expects it to rise up and barricade him as it did before, imagine his surprise when it does that and coats his wooden sword in ice.

Toushiro feels a slight smile curling his lips; he's going to enjoy this.

_**Where are you going? Where have you been?** _

_**A decade, a year, a month, a day.** _

_**I never knew you existed, that I was searching for you.** _

_**And now that I've found you, I'm slowly finding my place.** _

From midday they've been out here for hours, or so it seems. His muscles feel the wear and tear after Gin has put him through the motions.

In the distance night encroaches upon day, painting the sky in the hues of dusk. Toushiro struggles to catch his breath as sweat beads his brow and he drinks greedily from the thermos filled with water.

"Toushiro."

He snaps to attention, Gin's tone has an authoritative edge, the prodigal son supposes this is what he uses to bring his squad under heel. Toushiro's got the distinct impression he's about to be lectured… again.

In Gin's hands are his recovered zanpakuto, "This," he points to the wakizashi, "is Shinso, my soul slayer. And this," he holds hold the other sword, "is an Asauchi. If you'd attended the Shin'ō Academy, you'd be given one of these and spend every waking moment with it while you trained, essentially imprinting your reiatsu onto it, or rather molding it in your image. You don't need that advantage."

Gin holds the sword for Toushiro to take, and he does just so.

"I feel like I'm readin' from a textbook," Gin's sigh is almost longsuffering, "the things you'll do for your kid." He pauses before going back into lecture mode, "Anyway, a zanpakutou is a part of a death god's soul; it has its own mind and name, knowing its name is key to communication between the Shinigami and soul slayer. The relationship is a partnership, and should be treated as such. Respect and trust along with communication will lead to a more powerful death god." Earnestness enters his father's voice, "There should be no fear, 'cause there's nothing to fear. So Shiro-chan do yourself a favor and say your zanpakuto's name."

Toushiro stares at him for a long moment, then nods hesitantly.

There's a voice, usually drowned out by whistling winds, and the image of red eyes in the midst of a blizzard storm and frozen tundra comes to mind. Its calls can no longer be ignored by him; hand on its hilt Toushiro brandishes his zanpakutou with a flourish and says a name that has longed to fall from his lips,  _"Hyōrinmaru!"_

And he now sees another reason for Tou-san bringing him to this open field.

The temperature drops as it always has, sleets of ice cover the surrounding area as it always has, and the sky darkening is new, the fall of snow is certainly novel. Toushiro tries not to gape like a fool at the sight before him.

Here be dragons.

Rather one dragon.

Glowing red eyes stare back at him from a massive face made of ice, coiling and twisting its large body. Toushiro doesn't feel fear, rather relief that makes his shoulder slump, it's as if something has clicked into place, the tension that's been building in him snaps as if the tether holding him up has been cut.

This creature, Toushiro realizes is a part of him and so he embraces it.

In a voice that has haunted his dreams, yet speaks with new strength Hyōrinmaru asks, _ **"Are you finally ready to take flight with me?"**_

He's always been ready, he just never knew until now, "Hai."


	6. They kill us for their sport

**Disclaimer:** Any references to King Lear belong to the barb Shakespeare, bleach to Tite Kubo and the bs is mine.

* * *

**They kill us for their sport:**

Here the past begins to crash into the present and what a ripple effect it causes:

_**The stage has been fractured, falling apart at its seams.** _

Fake Karakura town is no more, just fragments around them.

At their feet lays the true King's key. Bustling with activity, its inhabitants—not of the spiritual variety—are unaware at how close they came to destruction— reishi on the wind.

_**Strings are severed, and the puppets are free falling.** _

In the wake of Aizen's betrayal and defeat a sense of confusion encompasses them all. Each side clusters into groups, familiarity is safe, looking to their commanding officers for guidance, and yet they offer little reprieve as they gather their own bearings.

_**And the puppet master, the great orchestrator of this all has fallen to his knees.** _

Still swirling with life, a dust cloud stands in place of the wave of black energy that defeated a madman.

Likened to a star Kurosaki Ichigo dazzled them all… again.

Fiercely burning so bright that they had to shield their eyes, but never look away. Showing the limitlessness of the hybrid condition as he evolved again, in a manner Aizen coveted, and the Gotei 13 with their centuries of experience cannot touch.

However….

The dust settles and in the rubble lays one substitute shinigami in all his martyr glory. And opposite him a desperate  _man_ shrieking, flailing as he tries to catch the wisp of his delusions of grandeur that have shattered all around him.

And in the midst of these figures that stand as symbols of good vs. evil is a neutral party.

Urahara Kisuke, responsible for the key instrument to all their grief and now bringing it to it's end, watches them both apathetically.

What's done is done as far as he's concerned.

For in the end there's a limit to Ichigo's humanity, he loses his powers—his self-sacrifice, and Aizen is subdued permanently, for even death is beyond his reach.

In war there are no winners.

_**High road, low road.** _

_**Stairway to heaven, highway to hell.** _

' _ **Cause beyond here lies nothing, so**_

_**I'll take the path not taken,** _

_**Thank you very much.** _

* * *

Rangiku's interlude #2: You're the whole trifecta: beauty, blonde, and brains. And yet there's more. Fighter, mother, heartbreaker, peacemaker, conspirator, dream weaver, deserter… so many faces, which one are you? Them all. Complex, are you not? Of course, remember I'm the total package and your worst nightmare!

* * *

She likes to think she's handled herself tolerably well.

There's no plan, at one time she was fine with going with the ebb and flow, now with little direction and a vague goal she's reacting accordingly. Putting up a brave front, while inside she feels like that lost starving young girl from the Rukongai.

She reminds herself the goal is as it's always been, keep Toushiro safe.

And so she does what she must.

That does not mean she doesn't crave a cigarette or ten.

In the distance a garganta carves its way open and weary shinigami alike tense, hackles raised as if another wave of hollow will emerge and they will have to be engaged in battle… again. Not the case here when Tia Harribel calls out, "Shinigami I expect you'll hold your end of the agreement."

Her eyes are accessing as they were in their brief nonetheless intense battle. In which the 3rd Espada had reigned fearsome blow after blow onto the unwavering Rangiku who took the defensive, that is until Harribel had ran Rangiku through with her sword. Somehow this strange shinigami had appealed to her, with resolve so similar to her own—the will to sacrifice anyone to protect what they hold dear. Only then were they able to speak like rational creatures.

There within that conversation were the beginnings of a foundation that would benefit all. If the shinigami could deliver then Tia Hariibel would forever be in her debt.

Rangikus gives a sharp nod, then all seriousness fades away as she replies in her usual lively manner, "Hai, hai, you have my word!"

The idea of an alliance or perhaps a treaty would appeal too many, accomplishing such a feat is a different manner entirely. Considering her past mortem status… well difficulties will arise. Nonetheless where there is a will, there's a way and she's been moving heaven and earth for years now, this will be a walk in the Rukongai or so she thinks.

Harribel gives her one last piercing glance, and then steps in the garganta's yawning abyss and is swallowed up.

Rangiku looks about her and notices her fellow military dogs beginning to organize themselves, then looks to her fellow outcasts who are becoming wary—as is their right—and she wonders how it will take for them to scatter back into the wood work.

Great secrets have been revealed and with the decline of confusion amongst the ranks, curiosity rears its head. Rangiku had gathered her fair share of stares when she popped on the scene in the midst of battle. Silence can't remain on the subject forever and tension winds knots in her stomach as she waits for the guillotine to drop.

"Matsumoto-fuku-… ano Matsumoto-san," comes the timid call, "I'm finished."

The bosom blond snaps to attention, pulled away from dark musings, she gives Kotetsu Isane a beatific smile, "Arigato!"

Rangiku moves her shoulder gingerly; first it's nearly torn off by a psychotic feline, and then nearly sliced off by a shark scorned. She thinks she's found her new Achilles heel; thankfully her shoulder is back in working condition.

When Rangiku looks up she sees curiosity in her black eyes, but knows her fellow comrade is much too polite or perhaps meek to act on it, unlike her prying younger sister—cut from the same cloth, but from opposite ends. "No more pain, your skills now rival Unohana- taicho."

Isane flushes and then bows, "I'm honored."

When she takes her leave the former vice captain stops her, solemnly saying, "Kotetsu-san I am sorry for the loss of Unohana Kou; he was a great man."

At the name of her once lover the Amazonian quickly looks up, eyes flashing with grief, before looking back down. When she speaks her voice is quiet as she stutters out, "H-hai, I thank you, he missed you very much, many of us did— _do_."

The mistress of deception flinches; she rises from the dead and another takes her place. There is some poetic justice in that she loses a person she holds dear for the tangled web she's woven.

Silently she's been mourning the loss of her good friend, but such thoughts can't be lingered on for long, there's much to do. "I- would you like me to help you with the injured."

Isane sniffles, wipes her eyes, Rangiku averts her eyes to let her regain her dignity, "Hai that would be greatly appreciated."

* * *

To fight the tide of change is a foolish notion.

Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni is a traditionalist, not a fool.

He stands like a specter watching with all seeing eyes.

There are many familiar faces. Fodder in a mad man's experiments and quest for power.

With one sweep of Ryūjin Jakka they would all be ashes on the wind, these exiles, deserters, and supposed traitors. But what a waste it would be to loose captain class shinigami. Besides hadn't it been them that had aided their former comrades in their time of need? Had it not been for their common foe Yamamoto highly doubts that heads or tails of the vizards would have been seen by the Gotei 13.

His attention shifts to what he concludes is one of the reasons why there so many allies in their wake. Dwindling spiritual pressure tells a tale of sacrifice for the greater good, the upstart ryoka Kurosaki Ichigo is losing his shinigami powers.

It had taken an  _infant_ —one that represented all that soul society rejected to save them… yet again.

A substitute shinigami has what it takes to bring the spirit world from its shaking knees.

It is a blow to the ego.

Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni is old, the millennia mean little to him and he does not bother to keep track. And yet he must think back on that last one hundred years or so of his existence and catalogue what went wrong to land in him this scenario.

2,100 years ago he'd been younger, much more idealistic. Having founded the Shin'o Academy to train those with spiritual energy, the future had seemed bright.

And then he'd become complacent.

For who would raise arms against the Captain Commander, the one entrusted with the Spirit Kings protection, whose mere spiritual pressure brings individuals to their knees and crushes the very air out of their lungs.

No one… or so he thought.

A betrayal one hundred years or more in the making had taken place in his shadow due to his complacency  _nay_  arrogance in the belief that no one would be foolish enough to usurp his position and all that lays in his dominion of power.

And yet here they are.

In the aftermath of what he thought could not be, should not be, and would not be had he not been blinded.

As Soutaicho he represents the laws and regulations of Soul Society to a fault, and yet he can even see where they have failed to bring law and order when applied to this  _situation._

When he set out to bring order to the chaos that reigned over 2100 years ago, to help keep the balance between the three worlds he had not anticipated this happening. There had been uprisings that that had swiftly been brought to heel, but nothing of this caliber.

….Who's to say he can't bring about a change to the rules and strictures?

Such change would be subtle in some manners and drastic in others, no one would remain unscathed.

A plan is formulating… it's been a long time since he's been invigorated, he reflects that he has become so very complacent.

There is much to be done and he's ready to begin:

Alliances, reinstatements, new task squads.

"My former lieutenants," He speaks, no he commands, and they all tense, "Return to the Seireitei, there is much to be discussed."

He takes one last look at his surroundings before stepping into the brilliant light of the senkaimon.

And he knows his orders will be followed.

Yes there is much to be done, but first he's to see one Unohana Retsu about his missing left arm, perhaps she has the injection for the formula for limb regeneration that Captain Kurotsuchi hoards and afternoon tea will also be nice.

_**Juxtaposition, adjacent,** _

_**opposites,** _

_**back to back,** _

_**partners always.** _

* * *

Toushiro's interlude #2: Oh great prodigal son, you soar higher and higher out of grasping hands, for they would pluck your wings like wanton boys. Is that supposed to be a warning? Yes, a wingless dragon what a sight that would be. Are you mocking me? Yes and no. Those who play the roles of gods see us as their game. A warning… they would kill me? No, they kill us all for their sport.

* * *

Hyōrinmaru has two forms.

A dragon with large wings eclipsing the sky, the other less familiar… more humanoid, and when Toushiro stares into his face he thinks he's seeing an echo of the future. Decades, no centuries of what he may be like, a zanpakutou is a part of the soul… who's to say it's not a reflection of it.

However that's neither here nor there… for this form is currently kicking his ass.

Training with his father had been difficult; it pales in comparison to this.

The ice harbinger has the smallest inkling that this is the dragon's revenge for dealing with years of Toushiro's sheer stubbornness.

"Quicker, my boy you must move quicker, you may have achieved shikai, but it does not mean you've mastered it." Is that the telltale mark of amusement in the soul slayer's voice? "Now get up, we will do this until you get it right."

 _Task master_ , yep Hyōrinmaru is out to get him, and as much as Toushiro would like to call him out on his  _petty_ revenge—'cause really he's an all too willing student now, why linger in the past, and not let bygones be bygones?

He can't.

Albeit dazed from being drop kicked just moments ago, Toushiro lies in the snow and admires his inner world. It's more preferable than getting his ass handed to him.

Frozen tundra can actually be a thing of beauty if one likes a crying wasteland, but beggars can't be choosers. Frozen lakes and rivers break up the landscape of snow, along with barren trees great in their height, icicles hanging from their limbs. And in the distance an unseen light source cast his world in a soft glow.

A hand encased in a glove made of ice appears before his eyes; grudgingly he takes it and lets Hyōrinmaru haul him to his feet.

Hyōrinmaru's eyes flicker into the distance beyond Toushiro's person, and upon seeing that glint of amusement again the boy wonder is instantly suspicious.

"It appears you are needed elsewhere, we will continue this at a later time."

Before he can respond the dragon takes the hilt of his sword and slams it against Toushiro's forehead.

Coming back to awareness, he feels dazed and the beginnings of a headache, "Sadistic dragon,"he mutters mutinously. He rubs his temples that are dying a horrible death. And if that's not enough someone's poking him insistently.

He clenches his teeth and grabs the offending object and turns it ice. Toushiro looks up to find Tou-san with a frozen stick in hand, and he glares at him and then snaps it to pieces.

"Ah, you're awake now."

"Yes," he responds curtly.

"You look like hell," Gin notes.

"Thanks for the observation," Toushiro bites out, "what do you want, Chichiue?"

"Why do I have to want something? Can't I just talk to my kid without ulterior motives?"

"No, not after  _that_  conversation," Toushiro says vehemently.

"What, what!?" Gin complains, "it wasn't that bad!"

Yes it was; that man has no tact or simply lives to embarrass him. Both seem likely.

"Chichiue," Toushiro says sharply, "how may I help you?"

Gin' grin widens and then he thumps him on the forehead.  _Asshole,_ Toushiro thinks sourly, glaring at Tou-san as he rubs his aching head, but really he was becoming fond of the man… somewhat.

Gin replies flippantly, "Oh yah, the trail begins in twenty minutes."

Toushiro frowns, though assured this was a sham, he couldn't help his sense of dread. Gin smooth's the wrinkles on his son brow and says lightly, "Stop frowning or else your face will be stuck like, 'sides strange expressions are my prerogative."

The prodigal son snorts, "The last thing people need is another warp version of your face walking around here."

The king of smiling intimidation doesn't rise to the bait, rather he says in an uncharacteristically soft voice, "It'll be alright." Then moves to leave and Toushiro falls into step beside him, tension falling between them: the boy's unspoken worries and Gin's empty assurances.

There's another manner that occupies the young dragon's thoughts, making him weary. It's late afternoon and earlier before dawn made its trek across the sky, troops had poured in from earth marking the end of the war. He has yet to hear from his mother, which is alarming enough. He does not share his concerns with his father; the man has enough on his plate.

"Unohana-taicho ," Gin interrupts his dark thoughts, "says it's rare but not impossible to achieve shikai upon learning the zanpakutou's name. Hell bankai has been achieved in less than three days twice."

To say Gin's itching to brag about Toushiro's accomplishment would be an understatement. He on the other hand can only imagine the skepticism, particularly when they find out Gin procreated. Now that's something to fear.

But as far as he's concerned Hyōrinmaru's always been there, a constant presence—ignored—but there all the same. His name known to Toushiro long before he'd dared to utter it with absolute certainty. Seeing ghost, though never speaking to them, changing the weather, and his "outburst," all things he's come to finally accept.

"Hyōrinmaru says from here on out, he'll make my progress as difficult as possible. Apparently even after achieving shikai, I have much to learn," He remarks dryly.

There's silence in response to that, until a stifled snicker reaches his ears and a murmured, "Your soul slayer hates ya."

Toushiro says nothing, used to being the mature one with a juvenile parent.

"Ah here we are," Gin needlessly announces minutes later, ignoring the way his son tenses. He gestures to the bench beside him, "Be a good boy and wait for your Tou-san, Shiro-chan."

Toushiro responds with his usual scowl, and Gin ruffles gratify defying white hair. Toushiro makes to grab at the offending hand, but finds himself grasping it tightly instead.

Gin's eyes open, Toushiro glances at him quickly then looks away, but it's enough for his father to repeat, "It'll be fine," then adds as an afterthought, "train to keep your mind occupied."

Detangling his hand from Toushiro's, Gin disappears into the awaiting doors and the ice harbinger tries to freeze his sense of dread and fails.

_**In the garden of good and evil, no one's safe.** _

_**The masks fall away and there are monsters all around.** _

_**I brace myself** _

_**as allies and foes blur, and become** _

_**enemies alike.** _

* * *

Gin's interlude #2: Mr. grinning man, Mr. snake in the grass the jig is up, and we've got you all figured out. Really now? You're a glass half full kind of man. Despite your complex veneer, you have simple needs and desires. You say love is your driving force. Yep, a love so hard yah can't breathe. With such a love you'd be invincible, but too much will be your downfall, would it not?... That remains to be seen.

* * *

What's planned is planned, however the surprises keep coming:

It appears even the Central 46 have a flair for melodrama.

A spot light shines upon Gin as he stands center stage. Even he feels a thread of self-consciousness as he's stared at from the shadows. These men and women that hold his fate in their hands, if any of his charges stick, he's gonna blackmail the lot of them.

This is after all just pretense.

And if there should be any problems… well then Gin has a trump card.

"Ichimaru Gin your charges are the following…"

They don't even give him the formal pomp, he's kind of insulted.

And thus his thoughts wonder.

There's several betting pools going on in the medical bay, and if he gets Toushiro to work his mojo a.k.a. calculate the probability of each outcome, he'll come out of each bet victorious. It'll take a lot of wheedling, that kid's moral code knows no bounds, but if he words it a certain way he'll have his son seeing things his way. His thoughts continue to wonder, and drown out the droning of the orator.

"Ichimaru Gin how do you plea?"

That snaps him out of his trance.

"Not guilty."

"There is no file of your mission, let alone reports of information being fed to the Gotei 13, information that would have benefited our military forces in engaging the enemy you were aligned with. Therefore your claim of being a being appointed a double agent is null and void."

"Eh? One of the documents you have on file possesses the King's seal, in it is the detailed report of my mission, and the authorizer of it."

Hello trump card.

There is much sputtering from most of the congregated Central 46 and Gin finds his grin becoming more genuine.

Yep Gin answers to someone above you all.

How about them apples, put that in your pipe and smoke it.

"There is another charge."

And the other shoe drops, and now they will grasp at straws.

"The harboring of a ryoka. The child you flaunt with in the walls of Soul Society without fear of recrimination!"

Gin tenses—this is a serious matter—he'd thought this new lot would be smarter than the last flock that had been slaughtered. "The child is no concern of yours."

"Of course he is! All ryoka are; they are a threat that must be dealt with. Who is this child Ichimaru Gin? What significance does he hold to you to risk imprisonment, even death?"

Someone needs to have a timeout. Personal agendas, vendettas what have you is an absolute no, no. It clouds the judgment, too bad that person(s) will be thwarted.

Gin's happy smiling façade does not falter, they have nothing on him, "He is Unohana-taicho's protégé, she went through all the systems, filed the paperwork… why his file should be there along with my mission report."

When Gin called in all his connections, the favors and debts owed to him, he'd covered all of his bases. Judging by the sputtering in indignation, it appeared none had bothered to read the paperwork before this trail—a common trend in Soul society, paperwork is feared by all.

Facts are facts they can't be denied, and to reinforce that before any of the government officials can rise to the occasion, a door opens. A light pours through the echoing darkness, and an unmistakable voice grounds out, "The boy is under my protection."

Hello surprise trump card.

Unexpected, but very much welcomed to join the party.

There's no point in arguing with that tone, and yet there is all the same.

"Soutaicho!"

"Captain Commander!"

These are followed by similar cries of disbelief, and in steps Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni, followed by a serene looking Unohana-taicho. He's never notice how much his fellow shinigami loved dramatic entrances; he supposes it comes with the profession.

"In this you all have no influence, stop this farce of a trail; other matters require the Central 46's attention. Aizen has been apprehended and awaits judgment, prepare yourselves."

"Well damn," Gin mutters.

That's a clear dismal for them all.

The ancient leader leaves as he came, the head healer on his trail before she turns and says to the lingering Gin, "Ichimaru-taicho report to the division 1, there's a captains meeting in in 15 minutes, your presence is required."

And that's that.

* * *

He's aware that the war is over, whether he's prepared to deal with the implications that follow its ending is another manner entirely.

If he is surprised to see Rangiku, he does not show it; rather he stands carefully still and waits until she senses his reiatsu. She smothering their son in her "hug of doom" while he fights valiantly to get free. It's a losing battle, but Gin applauds him nonetheless.

Rangiku's eyes are moist, her embrace tight. She's whispering something to Toushiro, and Gin sees him stop struggling and hug her tightly in return. They stay like that for a long moment that is until the little man notices him, and what a dramatic turn of events that is.

"Chichiue," Toushiro says without much thought, seriously he must have not thought out how his mother would react to seeing Gin, or he did… the kid's evil like that.

She stiffens then abruptly turns, shoving the surprised Toushiro behind her.

Rangiku's never looked fiercer, or more beautiful than she did at that moment. With her eyes promising all kinds of hell if he did anything she found offensive.

Then she speaks and he is lost. "Gin."

One simple word holds so much meaning or at least to him it does, breathlessly he greets her, "Ran-chan, long time no see."

They stare each other down.

Toushiro forgotten between them thinks this has all the making of a very lame joke:  _what is the connection between a traitor and a deserter?_

Here's the punch line:  _by their dirty secrets, one of which is me._

This is bound to be a disaster.

 


	7. Heavy in Your Arms

**Disclaimer:** **I own nothing, nada, zilch**

* * *

**Heavy in your arms:**

_**I wade through troubled waters,** _

_**fighting against the rapids until I tire.** _

_**I fall beneath the surface, pulled down by the currents.** _

_**But then you catch me and yet you struggle,** _

_**for I am so very heavy in your arms.** _

**On September 30** **th** **what's past is prologue:**

Earlier that day—midmorning:

It is with great hesitance that she steps through the senkaimon and is hit by a wave of unexpected homesickness. As much as she had adapted to the human world, apparently there's no place like home, despite its corrupt politics.

Unlike the blazing midafternoon sun in Karakura town, here dawn and twilight prevail and the sun rises in the east. Such simplistic beauty does not stop the knots of tension from coiling tightly within her.

Beside her is Shinji—Cheshire cat extraordinaire—spokesperson for the vizards, Yoruichi in her human form. Her fellow outcasts are perhaps on the same wavelength as her, but wield mighty poker faces for this here is the first step in righting past wrongs. And for all they know they could be walking into a trap, rather have their guards up then get caught unaware. Considering past grievances this is their right.

The captain commander's words weigh heavily on their minds, echoing in their heads.

" _My former lieutenants, return to the Seireitei, there is much to be discussed."_

This is a boon, a tether of hope; they fight the urge not grasp onto it desperately.

Rangiku thinks of her son, and how this is just another opportunity to secure his safety and future. And she wonders absently where the hell Geta-boshi is, surely he would want to be present for this, and yet he probably anticipates the outcome of this meeting.  _Fucking manipulator._

As the trio walk through the barracks of the Seireitei, steadily closing in on division one, they are plagued by memories of halcyon days. Bitter sweetness is a common aftertaste for all three.

* * *

The meeting with the Captain Commander does not take place for a few hours. He has other duties to fulfill, and his attention is spread thin as is.

In the meantime Rangiku and her companions were escorted into a waiting room—a glorified holding cell by all accounts. Of course there's the chance to leave, exert that they were here on their own terms, that they were no longer military dogs at beck and call. But that wouldn't be courteous, so they would play this game, but that didn't mean they'd have to like it.

Shinji paces the room and snorts derisively, "After what we've done, of course we can't receive the pretense of freedom."

And that much Rangiku can agree with, she desperately wants to see her son. She sits by the wide window, gaze unreadable. Roaming Soul Society would be preferable to sitting idle, but she supposes this is merely a pretense in restoring order, allowing them freedom would be an infraction, they are after all  _ryoka_.

"Don't bitch Shinji!" Comes Yoruichi's boisterous voice, "At least they're not dragging the lot of us before the Central 46."

"They wouldn't dare, the gotei 13 owes us, and not to mention Ichigo," Shinji declares, he shakes his head, "Speaking of that kid, heard he's going to lose his powers, that last blow took everything out of him."

"Ah, I've spoken to Isshin, he'll be unconscious for a couple of days," Yoruichi becomes uncharacteristically somber, "kid's gonna be devastated when he wakes up."

"Well," Shinji says idly, picking at his ear, "where there's a will, there's a way. And chances are Kisuke's already found a solution for Ichigo's dilemma. Whether he'll share without all his usual cryptic bullshit is another matter."

Yoruichi laughs; it's the truth after all, "If that doesn't work, when the dust settles we'll convince the Captain Commander to help him. Guilt's always a great motivator to play on."

"And trampling on bruised prides," Shinji adds diplomatically.

"Yep got to stick it to the egos," Yoruichi laughs again, the tension as always never seems to faze her. "After all a substitute shinigami saved all our asses. That's got to rankle."

They both share Cheshire smiles.

Rangiku ignores their musings, she can't bring herself to participate and make sport of their predicament. To lighten the mood and joke is beyond her, for at the moment she feels as if she's drowning as she has for the last thirteen years or so. And this chance here maybe the life raft she's been waiting for, before the world fades to black around her.

* * *

In the end this game does not need to be played, for they are all to receive the fool's prize.

Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni is a traditionalist, not a fool, and he will not fight the tides of change, rather he embraces them. He sets his cards upon the table, gives his terms and decrees.

And little to no folly can be found.

"….The Academy is not churning out talent like they used to, and I am too old to be surrounded by infants."

Self-deprecation will get one nowhere, only alienate potential allies. However subtle flattery will get one everywhere.

"You will all be reinstated, as I said before. It's a foolish notion to be rid of such talent and power, when it can be put back into use."

Spoken like a true leader, practical and always thinking of the greater good.

The irony of the matter is that they are being reinstated into the tools they were once crafted and molded into, to keep the balance between worlds. If they are insulted, it does not show; these military dogs are occupied with other thoughts.

Rangiku for one is reeling.

It's not what she expects, nor what she considered. Rangiku is gob smacked; she can't bring herself to look at her counterparts, but thinks they are having similar reactions. It can't be this easy, really it can't….

But it is.

The visored will become the fourteenth squad. Matsumoto Rangiku will replace her former captain of the tenth division, Yoruichi and her lot will become diplomats to the human realm—exile will no longer reap bounty upon their heads.

While she silently congratulates her friends on their good fortune, her mind is calculating the possibilities that her own has gifted. This is the position needed to protect her son, giving her a modicum of power in the decisions made in Soul society, for if she cannot stop the corruption in the government, then she must have some sway in the way it affects herself and all that is associated with her.

The possible alliance with Tia Harribel surfaces to the forefront, and Rangiku begins to make plans. There is after all no rest for the wicked, and machinations are what drives them all.

Rangiku thinks she's no longer drowning, finally breaking through the surface, and heaving in greats gasps of air.

But Soutaicho is not finished:

"We will discuss this further, there will be a captain's meeting later on, and I expect you all to be in attendance." Soutaicho proceeds to look at the paper work spread before him, making use of his newly regenerated left arm. That's a clear dismissal for the trio, but they are stock still—thunderstruck.

To her left she finally looks. Beside her Shinji opens and closes his mouth several times; for once witticisms have escaped him. And Yoruichi… well Yoruichi has transformed into her cat persona, and is currently licking her paws—her reaction is left a mystery.

Across from them are the captain commander, and the ever present Unohana Retsu, who smiles benignly and offers her commanding officer more tea.

Rangiku's not surprised to see her. She learned long ago that women has her dainty fingers in every pie. And if Aizen wanted to become omnipotent, he should have followed Unohana's example, she's the closest thing after the Spirit King. Hell that is one of the many reasons why Rangiku's trusted Toushiro's wellbeing to her.

Soutaicho had not allowed much talking on their behalf, not when he handed them vast opportunities on silver platter. On this subject however he cannot offer Rangiku reprieve, "Unohana-taicho, how is Shiro-chan? Is he well—"

Retsu hold up a placating hand, "All is well Matsumoto-taicho, I've taken him on as my protégée. Right now you'll find him with his father."

And that statement alone is enough to set about that drowning sensation Rangiku felt earlier.

Soutaicho looks up, apparently surprised to still see them within the premises. "Unless you are here to help with paper, then you are all dismissed."

Paperwork is the bane of all Shinigami, right next to hollows. So it's not shocking to see the room clears out within seconds.

_**Count my lucky stars—not these stars,** _

_**you fool.** _

_**Hark, here my cry—down with love, down with love!** _

_**Because ladies and gentlemen,** _

_**from here and now it's a slow burn.** _

_**And mercy, dare one say hope is a thing with feathers.** _

Later that day—late afternoon:

She stops and watches.

She's left Shinji and Yoruichi to their own devices; they all have their own agendas to complete.

She hides her reiatsu and observes at a distance.

She's tracked his familiar signature and located him at the headquarters of Central 46. The implications of why he's in such a place are ignored, along with elephant that will soon be in the room; she focuses on her son.

He has a zanpakutou.

One that dwarfs him in height she notes wryly.

Obviously an Asauchi was given to him by his godmother or father.

 _And so the conditioning begins_ , she thinks grimly. It's not as if she does not trust Toushiro to be on his own here in Soul Society, he's independent most of the time. Rangiku has just worked so hard to give him the freedom of normalcy that would have been achieved had he remained in human guise. She had never wanted Toushiro to lead the life of a military dog, but to defy the call of duty meant facing the consequences.

She sighs, more's the pity. They would have to adjust to their new circumstances, and simply thrive.

Before she approaches, the sight of the soul slayer continues to give her pause. This is another mark of growth for Toushiro, and Rangiku notes once again she will have to let go. The kid's coming into his own. Memories unbidden rise to the surface, and she shakes them away.

No sense in dancing merrily away with nostalgia.

She withdraws Haineko from her sheath, and prepares for a spontaneous entrance.

Best to keep Toushiro on his toes, rearing a genius led to innovative ways to teaching, when he wasn't left to his own devices that is. Besides she wants an idea of what he's learned in the two weeks they've been apart.

Of course she knows Unohana fed his curiosity, anyone who speaks to Toushiro without that undertone of condescension under the supposed threat of his age and intellect is held in high regard. And yet she wonders if his father took him in hand for sword training, and knowing Gin—being familiar with the methods to his madness, she knows her little boy is getting his ass handed to him.

The thought brings forth a fondness that's usually clouded by bitterness and a swirling, twirling tumultuous blend of emotions that she associates with Gin. She smiles… almost.

She grips her sword and looks up at her son again; he's in deep mediation when she flares her reiatsu to warn him of her presence. He tenses and then relaxes, opening his eyes and blinking owlishly. He turns in her direction and smiles a small smile. Nothing like those wide gapped tooth grins he bestowed upon her as a young child, when he was discovering the world around him and accomplishing feats beyond his age.

Nope it's one of genuine happiness.

And this is a moment she wishes to capture on film, her stoic boy barely smiles anymore. "Ka-chan…."

That is until his eyes widen in horror, she flares her reiatsu again this time for intimidation, and leaps into the air, ready to bring Haineko down.

That automatic defense of his kicks into gear and lashes out almost hesitantly. Ice is his shield and he wields it in the form of a barrier thwarting himself from her.

It's a spar honestly; she would never truly harm Toushiro.

And he should know this, even as she cuts down his barrier—he's 300 years too early to truly defeat her, but in 50 years or so, he will be a true challenge.

The ice harbinger has taken the opportunity to brandish his zanpakuto, which sings when her blade comes down, metal meeting metal. There's a question in his usually apathetic gaze, eyes now wide with expression. Rangiku simply grins and chides playfully, "Always be on the defense Shiro-chan, even if it's your mommy raising arms against you."

She trades blows with him, using enough power that does not send the Central 46 into a tizzy, no need for them to think they're under attack again, and their imminent slaughter is upon their heads.

Toushiro struggles somewhat, then gains his footing. She nods approvingly as adrenaline takes its course.

He's caught on quickly to her sudden barrage of swings, she's testing the waters, exploiting some blind spots… testing him to see if he's been productive while she was fighting the good fight.

Rangiku sees Gin's touch in the swiftness of his movements, but that natural grace that Toushiro displays is all her, she thinks smugly.

She uses the sheath of her sword to block his blade, then quickly relieves him of his legs and reacquaints him with gravity.

"You've been busy, and it seems you've learned a lot in a short amount of time, as expected," She remarks, putting away Haineko into her sheath. And Toushiro flushes slightly, regardless of the subtle compliment. "What's your zanpakuto's name?"

"Hyronimaru," Toushiro replies absently as he stares at the cutting edge of his blade, before returning it to its scabbard on his back.

"How long have you known?" She questions.

"As long as I have been cognizant," He says once again distractedly, standing from his sitting position, and moves toward her, eyes flickering over her appearance. No doubt taking in her haggard form: the dark smudges beneath her eyes, hair askew up top her head. Hell Rangiku knows she looks hammered down.

At the sight of her newly acquired white hoari given to her by Unohana, he raises a brow but does not question it, that brilliant mind of his drawing conclusions—neurons firing away in rapid succession.

For once he lifts his arms and initiates an embrace, and she doesn't realize she's crying until her vision blurs. Toushiro's not one for emotional displays, and so awkwardly he says, "Ka-chan it's all right."

And the roles are reversed she notices. Toushiro's comforting her; the sight must be comical considering how short he is, as his face valiantly tries to avoid being smothered by her breasts. Of Course she takes advantage of this, to assure him that she's just fine.

Dramatically she wails, "My Shiro-chan is all grown up! You have your own zanpakutou, what happened to my little boy!?"

And suffocates him in her "hug of doom" and like always he struggles futilely, flushing in embarrassment, "Unhand me women!"

She stops her antics and murmurs, "Ka-chan was so worried, but now I'm relieved." Then she says the endearment she used when he was a young child, "Ka-chan loves her Shiro-chan."

He says nothing, just tightens his hold around her.

And then the moment is ruined when Toushiro says in a rare moment of tactlessness, "Chichiue."

And here's the elephant.

Nonetheless Rangiku should have been on guard, while aware  _he's_  in the immediate vicinity, did not she's prepared to face  _him_.

She reacts as any protective mother would to a potentially dangerous foe. She shoves a surprised Toushiro behind her, and her features take on a down right ferocious look as she glares at him. Daring him to mess with her, and when he doesn't speak, simply stares at her with the same eyes he given her son… no  _their_  son, she softens somewhat at that thought, and says, "Gin."

Wide eyes do not deter his familiar mocking grin from surfacing, "Ran-chan, long time no see."

She nearly flinches at the sound of his voice and his nickname for her, fighting the tide of memories that accompany it. Somehow she manages to remain indifferent and says formally, "We have a captain's meeting in less than ten minutes. I suggest we get moving."

And with that she turns on her heel, head up and doesn't look back.

Behind her, Toushiro seems torn and after a few moments he follows her lead. Gin behind them laughs, following at more leisurely pace. Rangiku grits her teeth and stops the urge to lash out, as always everything is a joke to him.

* * *

It's the longest five minutes of his life.

That's saying something; Toushiro isn't prone to dramatics despite his impending trek into puberty.

Tension is tangible on the tongue; not a word is spoken.

He glances at his mother's back. The insignia of her haori marking her as the captain of the tenth division, and then over his shoulder Toushiro looks to his father, the man's hand are clasped behind his neck and he looks like he does not have a care in the world.

Toushiro looks back and forth between them, once, twice, and thrice… it's surreal to see them so close together, yet eons apart.

He grasps the handle of his zanpakuto needing a sudden anchor, a physical reminder of his surroundings.

Change, change, change, my, my has his world titled upon its axis.

He wonders if he should break the silence, filled with secrets that are now thrust into the open, and no longer better left unsaid. For he—perhaps the greatest secret—stands between them like a dividing factor.

He has the distinct impression that they're being civil for his sake alone. Rangiku's tightly coiled, Gin is falsely nonchalant.

To be honest he expected a confrontation between them, if not here and now, then eventually. It's inevitable.

And he's quite sure he doesn't want to be there when it happens.

But this silence cannot continue.

He opens his mouth to speak, but finds another taking the words from him, in the form of a much needed distraction.

"Ma, ma Ichimaru-san back from the dark side, and eh? What's this? Rangiku-chan, my little kohai and drinking companion, now a captain and back from the dead," comes the lazy drawl.

Gin, forever unfazed lets out a, "Hi yah," and continues in his trek.

Rangiku however seems to find the diversion as welcomed as her son. Life is breathed into her stone façade as she identifies her fellow captain in her usually lively manner, "Kyoraku-taicho!"

Masculine and flamboyantly dressed; an oxymoron wrapped in one—a captain by his white hoari, under his flowered kimono. Kyoraku Shunsui looks up from under his sakkat, a ready smile on his face. Behind him appears to be his fukutiacho who fidgets nervously, readjusting her glasses with a notebook in hand.

She seems to be weary of his father and when she jumps slightly as if startled or perhaps frightened; Toushiro looks over at Gin and finds the king of smiling intimidation's attention on the co-captain, smiling his creepiest grin. And now he knows why.

The prodigal son shrugs, he won't interfere, her fault for showing fear. Gin likes to take the piss out of people. He moves up a few steps and tunes back into his mother's conversation, there's entertainment to be found there.

And then he regrets it immediately.

Out of nowhere she hauls him forward, and he thinks he suffers from whiplash. "This is my Shiro-chan, the protégé you've heard Unohana speaking of."

Kyoraku takes a good look at Toushiro, looks twice at Gin and then Rangiku, and then gapes at the travesty of it all. The cogs and gears, Toushiro notes sarcastically, are not rusted and work fast within this one.

"Eh!? Isshin was right! You two actually have a love child!?" That rhetorical statement alone shocks the studious looking fukutiacho out of her frightened stupor, and she turns to her captain as if needing confirmation to what she's heard. Gin on the other hand looks put out at having his fun for the moment taking away.

Rangiku smiles almost wolfishly, and asks, "Do you want to see pictures?"

Toushiro slaps a palm over his face, to hide his flush of embarrassment or irritation he doesn't know. He moves away to stand next to his father as his mother flashes and fawns her portable "Shiro-chan shrine." His Ka-san is taking this distraction too far, he pinches the bridge of his nose and feels the telltale signs of a headache beginning.

Beside him Gin snickers, and points a particularly nauseating picture of Toushiro at about three clutching Rangiku's leg, and a teddy bear while frowning. The man that lives to embarrass him says, "Why so serious, mama's boy?"

If the air around them suddenly shifts in temperature, Rangiku and Gin ignore it, even if their counterparts seem a bit suspicious. Though they're not speaking, Toushiro wonders what he's done to deserve parents such as these.

When their apparent destination is reached, Toushiro thanks the Spirit King that the madness has stopped… at least for now.

Rangiku looks at Toushiro briefly and... he knows that look. She turns to the fukutaicho, "Nanao-chan is there a fukutaicho meeting going to happen as well?"

There's no way in hell she'll foist him off on some nervous wreck of a co-captain, who cooed at his pictures, and has the audacity to stare at him as if he's a chibi.

Nanao Ise adjusts her glasses and says, "No we'll be attending with the captains as well, with the ranks so displaced, fukutaichos are standing in for former captains."

Foisting has been thwarted.

Rangiku turns and settles her thoughtful gaze upon Toushiro, no doubt thinking of a way to keep him busy and away from this business of shinigami politics. Toushiro does not like to be coddled, but he supposes it's a reflex for her to keep him in the dark.

When she opens her mouth to voice her thoughts, she finds herself interrupted.

Gin has come to the rescue… kind of.

"Bring 'im in with us, it'll be a learning experience and 'sides it's best to let out skeletons now than let Soul Society gossipmongers have a field day. At least the captain's will be able to control the flow of info."

Toushiro takes back any negative things he's thought or said about his father, that man is a godsend.

Grinning widely Gin adds, "This is after all scandalous."

And it is: the prodigal captain turned traitor, who's actually a double agent and would be assassin, has a by-blow with Soul Society's once most wanted beauty, whose back from the dead after thirteen years of being incognito.

Yep it sounds like a really bad soap opera.

As if she really needs the reminder. Rangiku glares at Gin and gives him a rude gesture, the man in question simply laughs.

* * *

In parallel lines they stand before each other.

The Gotei 13 has now become an even 14.

The echoes of absent presences still resound as some fukutaichos step awkwardly into the positions of two wayward former captains. Other fukutaichos stand next to their leaders, while others have ascended. Like Abarai Renji, who has taken up the mantle as captain of division five—a position that will forever remain notorious, or Shuhei Hisagi who still feels the thousand bee like stings of betrayal.

Rangiku finds herself in a similar position except Toushiro stands in as her second. The order in which the captains usually align themselves is skewed; Gin takes full advantage of that, having Toushiro juxtaposition between him and Rangiku. To his left is Kira, who peers curiously at their son, and nervously at Gin and Rangiku. The meek Kira is not the only one who's curious; Toushiro's presence garners small questioning glances.

Rangiku and Toushiro ignore them, remaining stoic. Gin simply smiles, and that's enough to quell the looks.

The true spectacle lies at the opposite end of line, where Shinji and Yoruichi are present as leader of the vizards and the corresponding representative for the human world.

This is Soutaicho's attempt at making allies and no longer alienating them.

Speaking of the old man, he has entered the building, followed closely by Unohana-taicho who smiles at Toushiro and takes her place next to Kotetsu Isane.

"Quiet," That single word brings all lingering chatter to a halt. "Let us begin."

And so Soutaicho lays down the law.

May order be restored.

_**Dare I leave the kingdom of omission and** _

_**uncover truths so deeply hidden?** _

_**Dare I lay down my weapons at your feet, and bare myself raw?** _

_**On equal footing dare I ask to stand,** _

_**beseeching to you to come as you are, and once were?** _

Many things are discussed during that captain's meeting:

Gotei 14's new structure is presented, not much different from the last except for new diversity.

Yoruichi and her lot will act as liaisons between the shinigami and the humans with spiritual awareness and powers. Urahara's products and experiments will be at visiting shinigami's disposal. They'll be able to move freely through the Spiritual and Human realms.

If anyone seems to notice Soifon foaming at the mouth—well her form of excitement as stilted as she is—at the thought of Yoruichi being present in Soul Society... well then they choose ignore it.

The vizards will be stationed in Soul Society and the human realm. Due to the common ground they share with arrancars—hollowification—vizards will act as correspondents with the peaceful Arrancar in Hueco Mundo. This alliance is suggested by Rangiku, who keeps her end of the bargain with Tia Harribel.

Needless to say changes are made, and time will only tell how these new terms and ventures will play out in the future.

And that is enough for Rangiku.

For Gin however it's the aftermath of the meeting that makes him grin in glee.

Mischief is afoot the moment the conference is adjoined. Since he does not have an iota of shame, Kyoraku Shunsui announces without much preamble, "It's time to collect on that bet."

There are murmurs of confusion… which one specifically? There's a lot of betting pools going around, some from years ago, other's made in the last few hours.

"The one from 30 years ago at that drinking contest I held in my division," Kyoraku identifies, and there are more murmurs this time of agreement—division eight's parties were infamous, each one was memorable. "And Shiba Isshin lost miserably." That garners some laughs, that was a very memorable occasion.

"Anyhow he drunkenly bet on my third seat at the time, Rangiku-chan here," Kyoraku has moved a casual arm around a strangely subdued blond—hell the cats about to be let out the bag, obviously she isn't feeling rainbows and sunshine.

Shunsui pauses for the dramatic effect, "Would have a love child with the elusive Ichimaru-taicho here."

Of course at the time it had been taken with a grain of salt, the ravings of a drunken idiot. As his usual wont Isshin was known for spouting nonsense even sober—the goat faced idiot he is. However those still coherent during the drinking contest and knew Shiba Isshin beyond the senseless, perverted façade he presents is a perceptive mind. This number was few, that is for those who were sober at the time.

That fact alone makes Kyoraku smile pleasantly for he knows he will be collecting a large sum. He points to said "love child's" general direction, and continues with the melodrama, "Meet Hitsugaya Toushiro, the result of a torrid love affair."

That causes more than a few choked gasps from their more expressive counterparts other reactions vary and Gin finds them all hilarious. The incoherent grumbling that follows adds to Gin's hilarity, no one likes to lose a bet.

The sad fact is that even while drunk these distinguished shinigami still gambled on something that was supposed to be prosperous, just for the heck of it. The connection between Gin and Rangiku was known by a slim number of people, and was even doubted then, they barely interacted in public. Obviously there's a wide spread addiction that needs to be addressed, or better recreational activities for the masses that be.

However, gambling is a favorite pastime in Soul Society, picked up especially after a stint in the medical ward, where any form of strenuous activity is banned. And any shinigami that has spent time in the division four barracks while injured knows that they are infamous for their pseudo gambling rings.

Yep there's a problem that needs to be addressed.

Toushiro, the current object of scrutiny has suffered more than a few cursory glances during the meeting, probably wondering what the hell an unknown midget was doing amongst them.

At the moment Toushiro is pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing one temple to relieve his aching head. He's surrounded by morons, fucking morons.

"Yes you heard correctly it's time to pay up ladies and gentlemen—" A swift kick hits Kyoraku in the solar plexus; he falls unceremoniously to the floor groaning. Bemoaning his fate he says, "Nanao-chan you always spoil my fun!"

Glasses gleam with menacing intent as she adjusts them, "Then you should learn to behave yourself captain."

"So," Gin begins happily, and that alone is disturbing, along with the thought of him procreating. "How are we splitting this?"

Rangiku seems to overcome whatever stupor gripped her before and glares at Gin with the strength of a thousand suns.

And Shinji with his usual slyness says, "It appears that the baby-mama is not happy."

Huh, 'course she's mad, but then that makes her a sore loser, Gin's seen the way she handed over money to the prone Kyoraku.

And that also makes her a hypocrite, given her recent stint in deception, but he won't touch that subject with a ten foot pole, at least not yet. Too many things need to be addressed and Gin needs to catch her at the right time to go down that path.

In the meantime Gin shrugs unrepentantly, and repeats his earlier question.

The regal Kuchiki Byakuya answers him, "Four ways so far Ichimaru-taicho. There are still others to take into consideration."

And honestly no one's surprised, even the old man's part of the bet and on the losing end at that. No one has any shame here, and Toushiro wonders if it's too late to leave this forsaken place before he dies of sheer embarrassment.

Gin guesses the four who are on the winning end so far are Kuchiki, himself, Unohana obviously, and Kyorakyu. From what Gin remembers there were over fifty people present that night, it's time to start hunting down those were conscious at the time the bet was made.

Gin turns to his son, "Thanks for being born, little man. For your troubles I'll give ya a cut from my share."

Toushiro does not bother to respond, he thinks he's been traumatized one too many times.

Gin grins; he won't be winning any father of the year awards.

* * *

**On October 6** **th** **dare we come full circle?**

It's time.

It could not wait any longer.

The moment of reckoning was upon him.

And damned if he's not dawdling.

Toushiro could not provide apt distraction; the boy must have sensed impending doom and made himself scarce. Probably off playing shoji with the Soutaicho, since he refuses to play with him, accusing his own father of cheating! The kid has no sense of fun.

So for the nth time he's straightening out his quarters in the 3rd division barracks.

It's not avoidance.

Not necessarily.

Really.

He has an excuse.

Nearly a week passes by before things settle down.

It's a weak one at that.

Gin is a complex man, but not the type to deny his emotions. He knows exactly what he feels: peace at the knowledge that Aizen's influence remains in the shadows forever more, far beneath the surface. Indifference at the prospect of remaining captain of squadron 3, at the beginning it was merely a means to an end, and it still remains so.

For his son… fondness, pride, irritation, amusement and a plethora of other things, Gin never thought it possible to love someone so much. The prickly little shit that Toushiro is. But he supposes since the boy is part of him and the women he holds in the highest regard says a lot.

As for Rangiku…  _shit_ that's where he becomes muddled.

Betrayal at her deception, mirth—Gin is forever amused—at having the tables turned on him, slight bitterness at being denied the right to at least watch Toushiro through his early years, et cetera.

However Gin would be the first to admit, in his thoughts that is, that he loves Rangiku fiercely. The discovery of Toushiro only makes it burn deeper and greater.

It's so damned convoluted.

Gin stops, he hadn't realized he was pacing, finds his sake stash—the good, expensive kind—pours a cup and downs it in one go.

Now he's fortified, ready for anything… maybe.

* * *

She's in the division ten barracks. Specifically the quarters for the captain, Unohana had already been by, packing and picking up Kou's possessions. She feels as if she's invading the space, as if she's a fraud for being here. Perhaps it's just guilt. Regardless the area remains bare, except for the boxes with her son and her own belongings.

She thinks she might move to one of the safer areas of the Rukongai and expose Toushiro to places other than the Seireitei.

The bar and apartment has been abandoned for a life here in Soul Society. Before Rangiku bought the bar she's suffered from wanderlust. They left a note saying they've taken off to the Americas, and left the bar's ownership to the assistant manager.

So it fits the bill with her flighty nature. Besides if anyone bother's looking for they won't find a trace anyway.

In the room over, Toshiro rustles around the kitchen, grabbing pots and ingredients. He's sworn her away, knowing her luck when it comes to cooking; the microwave is the best way to go. Not much has changed, she notes wryly.

Ah, but it has.

She feels him before she sees him. Not at all surprised by his sudden appearance.

Gin appears in the open shoji doors and raps twice on the wood and says by way of greeting, "I come bearing a homecoming gift."

Rangiku looks over her shoulder from where she's taking photographs from out of a box, and says dryly, "Sake? You sure know the way to a girl's heart."

Mild flirtation just is Rangiku's way. Gin relaxes an iota, this is good sign, and she's not biting his head off… yet. "'Course it's the expensive kind Ran-chan, right from my secret stash."

Is that a slight smile? Why yes it is. All he's gotten from her are glares, frowns, rude gestures and barely restrained civility.

She looks him over and wonders is it time to let bygones be bygones, and then rolls her eyes and invites him in, the right one in, "Come on in, have a seat."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
